What a Lovely Way to Burn: A Game of Thrones Story
by Prosati
Summary: Evgenís is a high born Lady of Myr travelling with her father to bring goods to Winterfell for the arrival of the King and Queen. Though she is everything a well bred Lady should be, she is barren, and can never hope to marry high or at all. But when her Septa reads of a marriage in her coffee grinds, she wonders if the North can bring her the hope she longs for.
1. Evgenís

(Ev-yen-is) held the cup up to her mouth and drank the rest of the black muck until there was only enough to line the porcelain walls with sandy grounds.

"Here." Septa Senos said gently, taking the cup in her hand and holding it into the candle light of the window. "Ah," She began. "A long road. It appears that your father's journey is favoured by the gods."

Ev̱gení̱s took Septa Senos' hand and looked at the cup held inside her fingers. The lines looked like the waves of soap that floated across a full tub of water. Only now, they were brown and still. Her fortune fixed with it. She could see the long, uninterrupted line clearly.

She raised an eyebrow and dropped her hand back to her side."There's always a journey." She noted unimpressed, as she took a turn about the room.

"I also see a small bird my lady."

"Good news." Ev̱gení̱s interupted. She saw through the corner of her eye that her septa was pleased by her knowledge.

"That's right." She began. "And here, what do you think this is?" She asked, leaning forward and smiling, showing you the bottom of your cup. Ev̱gení̱s walked close to her once more, and took the cup back into her hands.

"A circle?" Ev̱gení̱s said flatly, her eyebrows raised.

"A bracelet." Her septa added.

Ev̱gení̱s did not look at her. She remained fixated on the cup. "An impending marriage." She said, in almost a whisper.

"Yes, child!" Septa Senos rose from her chair and took the cup from her. "The grinds say what they say, and we know them to be true." She placed her hands on Ev̱gení̱s shoulders. "Perhaps when you return from Westeros, there will be a suitor waiting for you."

Ev̱gení̱s placed her hand over her Septa's. "We will see. There have been so many disappointments."

The septa shook off her ill response. "A beautiful, noble such as you should have no troubles."

"And what of my impairment?"

Septa Senos was quiet for a moment, her mouth a thin line while her eyes cast down to the floor. "Oh nonsense!" She blurted out suddenly. "If you do not bare sons then your fortune and title will pass to your husband's kin. Marriage is not all about children-"

"To get a husband, you must first be capable of giving him sons!" Ev̱gení̱s' voice began to rise in frustration. She then took in a breath and lifted her hand to move hair away from her face, She did not want to yell.

Septa Senos took in a deep breath through the nose. "Then you must work harder than anyone else."

"I already do. I can sing, draw, speak many tongues eloquently! I know how to dress, how to speak and act in polite society. I work harder than anyone!"

"And you've a prettier face." She interrupted. "But those are only tools child! You must do what so many aspire to do. You must be better than all the others and you will have to find someone who truly cares for you. It won't be about anything else but you and him."

Ev̱gení̱s starred at her with furrowed brows for a few moments.

"The grinds have spoken." Septa Senos finished as she rose from the ground. She ushered Ev̱gení̱s to her vanity where she began to undo her many braids.

The very next morning, Ev̱gení̱s woke at the crack of dawn. She wore a new dress of deep green silk, and lace. The sleeves were long and tight to her arms, and her collar was made up of thick black fur. When she viewed herself in the looking glass she watched the material shine as the morning sun reflected off of it. The vibrant green suited her.

It was heavy and warm, but as quick as she could, she moved down the stairs to break fast with mother and father before the journey. She noted how loud the house was, even at this early hour. The house was always loud, and visiting nobles had always made note of it. The Myrish are a loud people. It was known.

She dreamt of the cup last night and all its omens. She wondered if it was worth mentioning any of it to mother.

"Best not mention your cup to your mother, child." Septa Senos said with a smile and a nod as she turned the corner and headed to the kitchens. Her question had already received an answer.

Soon, I won't need to look at grinds for answers to my questions. She thought as she entered the dining room.

Mother and father sat at the large oak table waiting as the servants bustled around them.

"Daughter." mother began. Ev̱gení̱s winced at her voice, certain that it would ruin the meal before it began. "Do you know what time it is?" She asked rhetorically, for just as Ev̱gení̱s was about to answer, she began again, "I suppose you don't. You are late and you are making your father late. I hope you won't dawdle when it comes to meals at Winterfell. I won't have you ruining this House's name." She finished sternly while buttering a bun.

"I won't _mother._" Ev̱gení̱s answered disdainfully. Father looking at her and smiling ever so slightly. He raised her spirits some.

"Look how lovely you look in your new green dress. You're dressed like a real Northern Lady now. The Starks will be pleased." Mother said staring at her. Daughters of Myr were always elegantly dressed. Fine materials being a main export. Ev̱gení̱s didn't like when her mother gave her compliments because it always meant that there was something more to follow. "And don't you dare allow Septa Senos to pack you anything other than green. This is a social affair. The royal family will be there, and with the good standing I have with the Queen of Westeros, I would like to keep it that way."

"Yes mother. I've packed only green. Though I don't know why. No one knows about our customs in Westeros."

"Well, if they don't know about our customs then they shall be the savages. Not us. The first born of House Kyría wears green at court and social functions. That is how its always been. If your sisters were going, Krisi would wear blue to signify the second born, and Anagénnisi would wear red to signify the third. This is how the nobles identify your rank."

"So they don't have to talk to us." Ev̱gení̱s grumbled.

"Well, exactly." Mother said as though it was the most obvious thing on earth.

"But must it be so heavy... and warm..."

"It may be warm here daughter," Father began, "But the North of Westeros is a bitter cold place. You will be glad that you dressed for the journey. And the Northerners will not think you ridiculous in your southern clothes." He winked and Ev̱gení̱s smiled. Father had always been ruthless when it came to business. This was likely why he was as wealthy as he was. But when it came to his children, he was kind and true.

"Your father and yourself are guests of Winterfell by request of the Queen herself." Mother began again. She could get through no meal in her life without bringing about some talk of work, and spoiling everyones appetite. "She has ordered a number of fine silks and lace trims for House Stark, as gifts for allowing the Starks to receive the Royal family. I don't need to tell you that our goods are known throughout realm as the most prized."

Ev̱gení̱s sucked her teeth immediately. She knew that of course. Myrish finished exports was the key to many a Myrish fortune, including Father's. Mother gave her a dangerous look. Ladies weren't supposed to suck their teeth. Ever. She continued to speak, unimpressed.

"As the Lady guest representing this House, you will present the goods to Lady Stark on behalf of the Queen upon your arrival. You will also give some to the Queen herself when the time comes. This will be our gift to her. Be sure that they are lighter fabrics. The Queen lives in the South after all."

Ev̱gení̱s finished her plate as quickly as she could without raising her mother's suspicions. The faster they left, the sooner she wouldn't have to hear her voice. She wondered about the cup of grinds and whether or not it would ring true. Would their be a suitor waiting for her once she returned. It was a slim chance. It seemed as though she had met every suitor in Myr and though many had been initially taken by her charms and beauty, none could get past the wicked rumours. It was a terrible thing, to be a woman, void of the only thing that held her value. Her ability to bear children.

Suddenly, she thought of the famous Myrish nesting dolls. An odd thought for a woman grown. In her youth, she played with the dolls. They were meant to teach children that beauty was on the inside. For what is a nested doll without its inner parts? But it taught everything but. It taught her and so many others that your outer shell was what got you chosen. But the outer shell was not her trouble. She felt like an empty nested doll without all of its pieces. The outer most doll, with all the beautiful details and colours. But it didn't matter how beautiful she was, without its inner parts, it was just a painted face.

Ev̱gení̱s knew what her role in life was. To get married and bare children. She heard tales of women across the narrow sea who would forsake all they knew and became women of their own. Free from children and husbands. She wondered if they shared the same misfortune as her.

In some ways Ev̱gení̱s was envied by so many. Rich, beautiful and a powerful Father.

Her younger sisters had both bled before her now, and if they or any other woman in the realm knew that it was their moon blood that she envied more than all wealth of Essos, she might die of shame.

"Come daughter." Father said. "We must take our leave."

Ev̱gení̱s blinked and looked to her father who had already stood. She kissed her mother cooly on the cheek and rose with all the grace that she could muster. "Don't slouch." Mother whispered. She wouldn't see her for months now and that was her last word. She slid through the doorway sideways as her dress had so many more layers than she was used to. She was no fool, Mother had considered her useless for years. Only through helping her father could she earn her keep now.


	2. Jon

Jon walked along the training yard with his sword in hand, and watched as the younger boys carried their wooden ones. He could scarcely remember a time when he used a wooden blade. He smiled while watching two boys brawl and tug at each others hair, abandoning their swords completely. Winterfell's Master at Arms Ser Rodrick Cassel grabbed them under their armpits and threw them aside. Jon smiled and thought of Arya. It was something she would do.

He could feel the cold in the air, and if he breathed too deep, he would choke. He thought about the words of his house, _Winter is Coming_. The King would arrive any day now, and Uncle Benjen as well. The Night's Watch beckoned him, it was his turn to Take the Black.

The last few weeks were plagued with Theon Greyjoy's jests about the Southern girls who would pour into Winterfell like hot spiced wine. He even said that the Queen would likely want to fuck him. Robb remained like Jon, quiet and uninterested in Theon's empty words, though Jon had a greater dislike for him than Robb did.

_I've no interest in the Southern girls._ In truth, he was more interested in seeing the King, a fierce friend to Father. He often thought of Father's youth, and who he kept company with. It was hard sometimes, to image Father being anything but the Lord of Winterfell. Perhaps he would get to hear more at the feast. He would sit with his brother, and Father, and Uncle Benjen where he could listen all night. He smiled at the idea and imagined the warm wine, and cured meats.

"Jon." Father yelled from across the yard. He knew his voice without having to look. He stopped and waited for him to approach.

Father walked with his cloak swaying behind him. There was no snow on the ground in the training yard, too many feet overturning the soil. His seams were soaked with mud and dirt. He stopped in front of him and took in a deep breath. "It's a good day for training." Father commented.

Jon smiled and nodded simply. Father looked around the yard, and Jon knew that he had something to tell him. Something that troubled him.

"The King will arrive soon. Any day now I'd suspect. I was speaking to Catelyn," He didn't like that. Any time he had been speaking to Lady Stark, there was always something terrible in store for him. Jon never called her Catelyn, and it twisted his stomach some when Father had to call her that. When he spoke to his siblings, she was called, _your mother._ "She believes that perhaps for the feast, you might remain out of sight." He began again quickly, "Just for the feast." As if the words would cut through him less.

Jon's heart sank, and he could almost feel his shoulders slumping. He might have suspected this. He tried to keep his face un-moved.

"She thinks it will offend the Royal family to seat a bastard amongst them?" He said softly, with his head down. The mud had never been quite so interesting.

Father let out a small breath, and starred into the yard yet again. "She is my Lady Wife, and I will allow her this. You will understand someday."

_No I won't. _

"Yes father." He said simply. He was not going to argue an empty cause. Lady Stark always won in these matters, and Jon was not her true born son.

"You'll enjoy yourself later. Uncle Benjen will be there." He smiled.

Though forced, Jon smiled back. Father nodded and turned his heel, and as he disappeared back into the castle, Jon looked out to the yard again, looking for nothing in particular. He took in his breath, his chest heaving up and down noticeably. He moved quicker towards a straw man that was used for sword training. A man who wouldn't fight back. It was not Jon's favourite tool. He unsheathed his sword with haste and slashed at him over and over again.

Jon wouldn't go to the feast at all. He never belonged there anyhow, and he wouldn't want to _offend _the Royal's. He let out some irritated air from his nose.

_It will be boring anyhow. _He thought, before he threw his blade against the straw man so hard that it broke it in half. He watched as the straw turned and tumbled in the wind.


	3. Evgenís: The Arrival

The sun had only just came into the sky, and for that Ev̱gení̱s was grateful. When the sun rose high, Myr could become a dangerously warm place. She was pleased that most of the journey would be by ship, she loved the ocean. She had lived by it all her life, and she was disappointed that her entire time in Winterfell would be away from her beloved sea.

The journey North-West across the Narrow Sea would take two weeks, and she knew that she had best enjoy the clean air while she could. She leaned against the starboard edge. She wanted the dolphins to rise and fall again, jumping out of the waves like so many dancers. Sometimes, the water would smash against the side of the hull and spray up in a salty mist against her face.

"Ev̱gení̱s." Father's voice rang out as he approached slowly. "Your mother wouldn't want you to ruin your dress."

"I'm not father. I'm just enjoying the sea. We will be away from it for a while once we get to Winterfell." He smiled at her and looked over the edge.

"You have my side of the family in you. The Kyrían House is bound to the sea. So much of what we fail to learn in our lives can be realized only be studying the waves. Ev̱gení̱s loved listening to father's lessons. He never nagged like mother, and his voice was not shrill. He stared at her for a moment.

"What can we learn from watching waves father?" Ev̱gení̱s asked, resting her head against her hands. Father was quiet for a moment, then, turned to face her with a smile. The kind that was reserved for remembering good and happy times.

"Do you remember the rhyme I used to tell you when you were younger?" He asked, ready to explain. Ev̱gení̱s nodded her head lazily. "Make just a ripple. Come now, be brave. This time a ripple. Next time..." He leaned forward, as though we was going to tell a secret, "A wave."

Ev̱gení̱s smiled largely and stood up. "I remember that." She said fondly.

"It means the same thing it always has you know. Just because you grow up, doesn't mean things stop being true." He paused for a moment and looked out to the sea once more. "Some people, start slower than others..." His voice became awkward. "But, show the world who you are a bit at a time. So that when when your time does come, courage will be your guiding star, and it will lead you to victory." Ev̱gení̱s smile remained, but it was smaller now. He was trying to give her the hope she needed to move forward. That she needed to take on what life had given her. Somehow, his small gesture made her feel safe. She couldn't help but think that her father may think too much of her. She didn't feel brave when she faced her greatest fears.

"I know that there has been some ugliness. Especially with the Baratheon match gone wrong..." He started again. He had never mentioned this and it had been nearly over three full moons. Ev̱gení̱s swallowed. How could she ever forget the Baratheon match?

It was all arranged, she was going to marry Renly Baratheon, brother to the King of Westeros. Her father arranged everything. Had they not inspected her and found that she had not yet bled, she would be married now. The rejection was difficult on her and she wept for days. It was lucky that Renly Baratheon himself was kind enough to keep her 'condition' a secret. In truth, it would have been a fine match. A Royal of Westeros married to an incredibly wealthy Myrish woman who could supply the crown with riches and goods to rival all others. Few knew about the failed arrangement but the two houses alone. Father hadn't spoken about it at all. Not until now.

"It didn't go wrong father." Ev̱gení̱s aided his apology. "It was my fault. All would have gone well had I been normal." She placed a hand over her womb.

"You are normal!" Father said loudly. He didn't like the notion that any of his children were broken. He looked around the ship, checked to see if anyone had heard his outburst. "You are my perfect daughter and it was not your fault. I should have known better than to arrange such a match." He threw his hands up in the air. "The King's brother may not ever see himself rule, so he would not need an heir, but the King's brother he still is. It was too high a match." Ev̱gení̱s smiled slightly at her father and placed her hand over his. "I should never have put you in that position. I trust that had he ever met you, he would have loved you from the first. He wouldn't have cared about...anything else." He soothed.

"A father's love is strong." She joked.

"He just never met you." He repeated. "Who knows, the gods work in mysterious ways. Who are we to question them? Perhaps you will meet a son of the North." He smiled and laughed while she joined in. Father took her arm and placed it in his as they began to take a turn about the ship.

"Actually, I was reading cups with Septa Senos before we left. The grinds favour a marriage."

"You had a circle?" He asked.

"A _bracelet_." She teased. "She said I may have a suitor waiting for me upon my return."

"Ah." He laughed, "Well, perhaps you will find a Northman after all. Did the cup say anything about waiting for your return?"

Ev̱gení̱s smile faded and she looked up to meet her father's eyes. "No... We only assumed."

"Always a mistake to assume, daughter." He kissed her forehead and attended to a man waiting with a message in hand.

Ev̱gení̱s left her father to his work and made her way to her chambers. Her mind, ringing with a new array of possibilities.

Coming off the ship was nothing like getting on. Ev̱gení̱s' eyes widened at the sudden cold. Myr had no cold like this, not ever. She looked at the frost that covered the ground for miles. It made the grass a lighter green than natural, and the small bundles of snow interested her further. She thought it was such a strange and beautiful thing, having never seen snow before. She walk to the closest tree and gathered some up in her hands. She did not expect it to be so much colder than the air itself.

"I wouldn't play with the snow my lady. It could take one of your fingers if you hold it long enough." Said Sir Nermol, one of father's closest attendants.

"Sir Nermol is right Ev̱gení̱s, the snow is fine to look at. Best left untouched. She dropped it to the ground and watched as her large party unloaded the ships. Warming her hands, she closed her eyes and listened to the trees rustle around her like living things. The bitter cold air was snakes, finding ways into the smallest openings around her neck.

Her father mounted his steed with the reins of Ev̱gení̱s's mare, _Lírio,_ in his right hand.

"I had no idea the North was quite so cold." She remarked as a hand boy lifted, and helped her to sit side-ways on her mount. She pet the mare lightly on her back.

"Aren't you glad that your mother had you wear that dress now?" He laughed. He signaled to his attendant, and with a snap of his finger, a small man that she knew to be Nathan came with a bundle of thick material. "For you." Father said, lifting the material into a never ending cape. It looked like a magic trick.

It was a glorious cloak indeed. Trimmed with thick fur around the collar, and a green to match her gown everywhere else. "Thank you Father!" Ev̱gení̱s smiled.

"This will keep you warm until we reach Winterfell. I'm told it's in the fashion." He handed it to her and watched as she swung it around her shoulders. "_Meya_." Wear it well, he said.

Ev̱gení̱s rejoiced in the sudden warmth and trotted along much easier now. It would be half a day's journey to Winterfell.

As she approached the castle, her eyes felt as though there was too much to take in at once. Winterfell was nothing like her home. Her home was smaller, and the walls didn't go nearly as high. There was not a place in Myr that didn't have people. People selling, people buying, people eating, talking, or dancing. Winterfell was a fortress with nothing around it's bounds but land. It seemed eerily quiet to her.

As she approached the gates she also noted that the sun had been very dim since she left the ship. Trapped behind a frosted pain of glass always. The sky seemed grey, and it casted its same colour on the earth around it. She thought the hues of the North to be quite bland compared to the vibrancy of her home. Did the Northerners ever have the sun on their skin? To feel its rays freckle and burn?

The gates began to open as they approached and Ev̱gení̱s took in what was before her. She thought it was grim. Though Winterfell itself was a large fortress, it was grey and brown... She did not know what she expected. She watched as the low born Northerners moved around her party's horses, the men like ants around a speck of food.

Ev̱gení̱s saw the ground and decided that she would dislike the Northern climate from then on. The weather was perfect for mud and water. Everyone but those on horseback were filthy from the knees up.

In the distance, Ev̱gení̱s could see Lady Stark approaching. It could be no one but her. She was dressed much finer than the other peoples and she walked with grace. The closer she came the more she began to notice the lines in her face. Her hair was the colour of a Vermillion Seabass and her skin as light as the snow on the rooftops. She had heard father tell stories of how the Northern people believe that light skin was a symbol of beauty. She didn't believe him until now.

"Lord Tizian Kyría I presume." She said as she approached father.

"Lady Stark, you're a welcome sight in this cold land." Father dismounted to greet her. He kissed her hand and smiled his sweet smile.

"You are a most welcome sight as well my Lord. We were beginning to worry that you would not make it in time for the King's arrival."

"I've never been late to an order my Lady."

"I am sorry that my household is in such a mess, we've received word that the King and his party will be here shortly, I have already assembled my family to meet with you first. They should be here in a moment.

Even now Ev̱gení̱s looked passed her to see a horde of people pouring out of the castle into what seemed like a particular order. Lady Stark looked back once, seemingly pleased at what she was seeing. Ev̱gení̱s suspected that her children were among those who were getting in line.

Ev̱gení̱s dismounted and captured Lady Starks attention at once. "This must be your daughter." She began to survey you, and lowered her head in greeting. "My, what a beauty."

"Lady Stark, you honour me," Ev̱gení̱s said lowering her head as well.

"I don't think I've ever seen a young Lady with such dark eyes, and hair. You are a most exotic site to us in the North."

"I am pleased that you could receive me my Lady. I have never been to the North before and I am excited to meet your people." Ev̱gení̱s continued to look around. Lady Stark was quite right. Everyone here was as pale as her, and most had the sort of light eyes that she had only ever seen on the mysterious sailors from across the narrow sea. Ev̱gení̱s had always wished to have eyes the colour of lovely silks that she had always worn. Some of the women, and men had yellow hair, and others had hair as red as Lady Stark's. She wished she had such beautiful colours in her hair as well.

Though the Northerners had colours in their hair and eyes, they seemed to lack it all together in the clothes they wore. They all looked like the colours of a garment that had been worn and washed too many times. She suddenly felt very vulnerable as the eyes of those around her focused on her brightly coloured dress. Even Father was wearing a dark blue that ran deep like the sea. The only blue that she saw amongst the crowd belonged to an orange haired girl who was beautifully dressed in line with the others. But even her blue skirts were light and almost grey.

Ev̱gení̱s was beginning to see why she might look exotic here, amongst these people with large bright eyes. Though her lashes were long and black, her eyes were nowhere as large as the girl with the orange hair. Most of the common people had low cheeks and crooked teeth. Her mother had given her very high cheekbones to which she was often criticized made her look _too skinny_ by her Septa. Septa Senos thought everyone was too skinny. Her teeth were kept straight by her mothers side of the family as well. The god's had made her look like her mother. She had always hoped that she would appear like her in body alone.

"Come." Lady Stark gestured towards the crowd of people in line. "You should meet my family." She began to walk along the road of deep mud and puddles, the seams of her cloak and dress mutilated. Ev̱gení̱s picked up her gown immediately. She did not know what was worse, exposing her ankles, as her mother had told her not to do in the North, or getting filthy. She had never had to make that choice before.

When she looked up from the ground she saw a man who could only be Lord Eddard Stark. He was a tall, rough looking man with long brown hair and a short beard. She thought it odd that he would not shave for the King's arrival. These Northerners were a rough people.

"Lord Kyría." He said with a light smile.

"Lord Stark, I thank you for allowing my daughter and I to stay at Winterfell. Your Lordship is very kind." Father said. His smile looked like it might hurt soon. He had not stopped since he came through the gates.

Ev̱gení̱s' attention was immediately shifted to the sound of whispers to her left. They sounded rough and were followed by laughter. She looked over and noticed a boy by Lord Stark who stood as tall as him, he had a light smile, but he did not have the look of the one who whispered. Then, suddenly from behind him, there was the face of a fair haired boy, pale as any other, who looked as though he was holding back a smirk.

It was him, Ev̱gení̱s thought. They were looking in her direction, and she had no doubt that what he said was directed at her.

"This is your daughter?" Lord Stark asked and broke her from her mystery.

"This is Ev̱gení̱s My Lord." Father said proudly. He was always proud of her.

"Ev̱gení̱s." Lord Stark repeated. "What a pretty name." He took her hand in his and touched it to his lips like a Lord would.

"I thank you my Lord." She bowed in a deep curtsey, the kind that mother had made her tie wooden planks to her back to keep straight for. Now, they were elegant and perfect. "Oh, I had almost forgotten." Ev̱gení̱s began upon setting back up. "We come baring gifts for House Stark on behalf of her Grace, the Queen." Ev̱gení̱s turned elegantly and reached to her side where Nathan was waiting with yet another bundle of orange coloured silk. Just one of many colours that the Starks would now own. The entire courtyard had their eyes on her as she sprawled the silk across her hands. "In Myr, we call this the bedding of the god's." She said with confidence. She felt very proud of herself and wondered if even her mother would have anything bad to say about her poise.

She leaned in and allowed Lady stark to touch the fabric. The colour alone seemed to brighten Winterfell. She grasped it in her hands as though she were plucking up a handful of salted nuts. "It's glorious!" She beamed. Lord Stark also went to touch it, but pulled away much quicker.

"We thank you for your lovely gifts my Lord and Lady. We shall thank the Queen upon her arrival as well of course." Father bowed after you as you handed the silks back to Nathan gracefully.

"You are the oldest daughter of Kyría, correct?" Lord Stark asked.

Ev̱gení̱s couldn't wait to get home if only to tell mother that the Northmen were much more civilized then she had given them credit for. He knew what the green signified.

"Yes, my Lord. I have had three and twenty name days."

"Well then," He began leading you to the left and straight towards the boys you had noticed earlier. "You're a bit older than my eldest son. This is Robb." He brought you before the boy who you had thought to be tall from a distance. Up close, he was much taller. He was clean shaven, unlike his father, and he had a pleasant face. The light eyes of the North suited him well and Ev̱gení̱s thought him very handsome.

Robb Stark nodded with a closed mouth smile that seemed to go to the side of his face. Ev̱gení̱s mirrored his smile and lowered her head slightly.

She walked away quickly, looking past Robb Stark and catching yet another glance of the fair haired boy who had laughed earlier. His eyes were piercing her like the painful beads embroidered in so many of her southern shawls. Beauty is pain, mother always said. This was one things she had always been right about. She made a note to ask her father to perform the _Malocchio _prayer, a prayer to remedy those who have fallen victim to the evil eye. This fair haired boy seemed to keep a smirk on his face, as though he knew a secret that no one else did.

Lord Stark ushered her towards his next child, the orange haired girl in the light blue dress that she had admired. "This is Sansa, my eldest daughter." He said, smiling and looking from between the two of them as if simply being girls alone was enough to ensure a friendship. Sansa's eyes were more striking up close. She was the most beautiful Northerner she had seen so far and was certainly pretty enough to rival some of the more beautiful women in Myr. Ev̱gení̱s wished she had orange hair, even if it was only for a moment. She wondered if it would suit her.

Sansa had a sweet smile and her teeth were every bit as straight as a high born ladies' teeth should be. "We will be sure to thank the Queen for her gifts. And we thank you as well. I've never seen such fine fabrics." She said, making her thanks her greeting.

"You are most welcome." Ev̱gení̱s said quickly as Lord Stark moved to the next.

"This is Arya." He said, moving more quickly now. She looked nothing like her sister or older brother. Her skin was as light, but her hair and eyebrows could have rivaled Ev̱gení̱s' in darkness. She was dressed pleasantly, but her hair looked as though she might have been running along side her younger brothers. She took after Lord Stark more than all the others. She barely smiled, and looked away to her brothers before they were even introduced. "And this," He continued, "is Bran and Rickon." Bran was the same height as Arya, but Rickon was much smaller. It seemed that with them, the Stark children took up the Tully features once again. Ev̱gení̱s thought it was so foreign that siblings could all look so different. Changing eye and hair colours between each child was something that her family did not share. Her sisters and herself each had the eyes and hair of ink. She noted however, that Brad had a freckled nose and cheeks, and took some hope in that perhaps Winterfell was not completely absent of sun.

She smiled at Rickon, his youth so visible in the way he swayed on his heels and toes, no doubt dying to move.

Before she could say another word to Lord Stark, the gates of Winterfell swung open to reveal an array of men on horseback. You knew this immediately to be the King.

It was time to watch the royal family enter and fill Winterfell with even more rush, and excitement. Ev̱gení̱s was interested to see the Queen. A woman who mother had always spoken so fondly of. Yet, she had never met.

Ev̱gení̱s and father nodded to Lord Stark. Himself and Lady Stark did the same. "We will speak more at the feast." Lord Stark remarked to Father.

Ev̱gení̱s moved to the right of the Starks and their household. She needed to be away enough to seem like a different House. She did not want to embarrass the royal family, and be referred to as a Stark.


	4. Evgenís: The Feast

Ev̱gení̱s examined her room. The light from the day had gone behind the mountains and all that lit the room were tall candelabras. Winterfell was surprisingly warm, and she gave credit to the hot springs that ran beneath the castle. She had overheard her father speaking to Maester Luwin. A Lady always remembered the names of all the high lords, their children, their chief advisors and Maesters. That is, if she wanted to be loved by those around her.

She could hear the bustle of plates and forks in the dinning room below, and the music had already began to ring out. She wondered how Northerners enjoyed their celebrations. Was it much different from those in Myr?

Her handmaiden finished braiding her hair. It had taken far too long for it to look anything but perfect. She could feel that they were just loose enough that her scalp would not ache by midnight. She had her maidens heat up and iron and run her long hair beneath it to hide the untamed curls she had always hated. Mother would have killed her for ironing them out, but mother was not here, and father would not notice.

She peered into a looking glass and gandered at what mother had chosen for her to wear. Grander than the dress she had worn upon arrival, it had a larger cage and a deeper green silk on top.

Her hands were still wrapped in ice water silks. She held out her hands to have them removed by her maidens. Her hands would be stiff and her fingers would keep together. With cold hands, she would keep them neatly in her lap for the greater part of the evening. One maid reached for her sulfur and Ev̱gení̱s looked up to the sky as she rubbed it into her lash line. She then closed them to have her upper eyelid done with sulfur ink. She liked to do it herself, but did not want the risk of getting her fingernails dirty. Finally, her maid's raised their hands to her cheeks and began to pinch as hard as they could.

"Ah!" Ev̱gení̱s cried out. "Can't we just use Camilla with lemon and salt?" She suggested.

"Your mother's orders my Lady." She younger girl said.

"Camilla is for..." She cleared her throat, "Women of the evening, my Lady. Pinching is for highborn Ladies."

Ev̱gení̱s rolled her eyes beneath closed lids and waited for them to finished impatiently. Once finished she looked in the mirror once more. Very pleased, she thought it right to make her way downstairs. The music had gotten louder, and she was curious to hear the sounds of the North.

Her maids opened the door and watched as she left, closing the door behind her. She looked left and to right, and could see no sign of lights. Winterfell was larger than she had anticipated from the start and she recalled taking a very long time to reach her room.

" Lady Kyría?" A sweet, familiar voice called to her. She spun to see Lady Sansa Stark approaching.

"Lady Stark." You lowered your head.

"Are you lost?" She asked, now by your side. Her eyes were even more perfect than you remember. A blue to match her dress.

"I am I'm afraid. Perhaps we can walk together?" Ev̱gení̱s suggested.

"Yes, of course." She walked along side her for a moment before she began to speak again eagerly. "I must thank you again for the silks. I didn't think that I've even see such bright fabrics! Does everyone in Myr get to wear such lush colours?" Her smile was sweet as a young girl's could be. She was full of wonder and happiness.

Ev̱gení̱s smiled, it would appear that the Northerners were just as curious about her as she was of them. "I suppose so, yes. You can't go anywhere in Myr without seeing colour." Ev̱gení̱s smiled at the thought, she had already missed the rainbow that was Myr.

"It sounds wonderful!" She smiled even larger than before, as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "And do you dress the same as us?"

"No, my Lady-"

"Please, call my Sansa." She interrupted.

"And I, Ev̱gení̱s." She added. "No, Sansa. The Myrish dress very different. Our tunics can sometimes come as high as our knees and are made from a fabric so light that it feel as if you are naked." Sansa's eyes were fixated.

"As high as your knee?!" She squealed.

"Yes." Ev̱gení̱s smiled and stood up straight.

"But when there is a feast, we dress in gowns that drag across the ground behind us and push the sand as we walk. There are shawls with so many jewels and beads that you might think we are walking works of art. We even wear gold on our ears!"

The young girl looked absolutely enthralled by what you were saying.

"How can you wear gold on your ears?!" She asked with wonder.

Ev̱gení̱s pulled back her hair to reveal holes in her lobes. Sansa's eyes widened even further still.

"Does it hurt?"

"Only the first time you pierce it. My mother said that I would not be permitted to wear anything in my ears here. The Northerners might think it savage."

"I wish you did wear them! It would be so beautiful. Imagine, so much gold that it can even rest on your ears!"

"Yes, I suppose it can be rather amazing to someone who has never heard of it." Ev̱gení̱s enjoyed her enthusiasm about her country.

"Oh, this is where we will feast." Sansa said abruptly.

Ev̱gení̱s was so enthralled in her own stories that she had almost forgotten the feast and the loud noises rising as they grew closer to the room beyond the walls.

"You must sit with me!" Sansa squealed opening the doors.

"Of course." Ev̱gení̱s nodded.

Once the doors opened, Ev̱gení̱s eyes grew wide. The great hall that she had glanced at earlier was transformed into a room of frivolity. There were benches and long tables that stretched across the room and large floor empty area where she could see dancing youths and players. It was poorly lit by candles that dripped their wax all the way to the floor, and chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling.

She could see all eyes in the room go to her and Sansa for the moment, as the newest members to the feast. Before she could blink, most eyes moved back to their activity, but some remained. She wondered if Sansa had noticed. She seemed to be very taken with the Prince upon his arrival, and she no doubt was looking around, hoping that his eyes remained on her. She looked to her right and saw her father conversing with a few knights. Lord Stark was at the end of his table speaking to a man in black.

Sansa turned and saw Ev̱gení̱s looking around the room. "This way!" She said, leading her. Ev̱gení̱s watched Sansa, her long auburn hair swaying back and forth as she walked towards a seat. She sat gracefully and made a space for Ev̱gení̱s next to her. "You remember my sister, Arya." She said sounding bored.

"Yes, I remember." Ev̱gení̱s smiled. "How could I forget the only Stark with hair as dark as mine!" The young girl allowed a small smile to move across her lips as she continued to stick a fork into her mutton.

"My brother has hair as dark as yours too." Arya said.

Ev̱gení̱s tilted her head. She did not recall a Stark boy with dark hair at all. "Your brother?"

"Yes. My brother Jon. He's a bastard." She said flatly as though the word had no ill meaning. Ev̱gení̱s released a breath of air. She did not know whether to laugh or be appalled. How could she have overlooked a boy with hair as dark as hers. Perhaps he blended into the crowd all too well. She had no idea that Lord Stark had ever parented a bastard.

"He's our half brother Arya. That's how you say it proper." Sansa corrected her. Arya rolled her eyes and continued to cut her meat with her elbows jutting out like two wings. Their quibbling reminded Ev̱gení̱s of her own sisters.

Sansa suddenly let out a loud breath of air. "Oh, I so hope the Prince will ask me to dance. He's so beautiful." Ev̱gení̱s noted her quick change in emotions and how easily it was so become that way when she was a girl of fourteen. She looked over to the crown Prince and saw nothing of what Sansa was describing. The Prince was round headed, and his light hair made a bowl shape around his noble brow. He was pale for someone who came from the South and his eyes seemed unkind through his smile.

"Fear not Sansa. The Prince will ask you soon enough. I'm sure he is just gathering his courage." Ev̱gení̱s could remember back to when she could love every handsome boy who looked at her. When she had hope that they could be married and have a family. Things were not so easy now.

Arya looked up from her meal a few times, and Ev̱gení̱s had noticed her stares. Finally, she spoke what must have been on her mind. "Septa Mordane said that Myrish people can tell you your future if you ask them to." She looked quickly to her plate and then back to her as though she hoped deep down inside her that she might have magic in Ev̱gení̱s' pocket. "It is true?"

"Would you shut up!" Sansa scorned. "Why do you ask such stupid questions."

"She's partially right." Ev̱gení̱s told Sansa without wavering her look from Arya. Sansa looked surprised.

Arya dropped her utensils and shifted excitedly so that she was on her knees. "I heard that you can read the grinds in someones cup or the lines in their hands."

Ev̱gení̱s sniggered slightly. "Reading the grinds in a person's cup can reveal what lies in their near future, and the lines on their palm can say things about there past and distant future.

"Will you read mine?" Arya begged throwing her left hand across the table, throwing Ev̱gení̱s ale off balance.

"Can you do me after?" Sansa asked with eyes wide open.

"Oh course. I can ready both of your hands." Ev̱gení̱s smiled and looked back to Arya. "Have you ever seen an archer use both eyes when he aims?"

Arya seemed confused, but answered just the same. "Yes. It makes for a better shot. That's what Jon says."

"He's right, and the same goes for hands. Two is always better than one." Ev̱gení̱s extended her free hand and gestured for Arya to place her other hand on the table as well.

The girl smiled brightly, enjoying the riddle and hunched over the table. Sansa gazed on in amazement.

"Palm reading? Don't tell me the Myrish have made you a believer."

All three girls turned their heads and saw the same fair haired boy who had the same smirk on his face as earlier. He appeared to always know a secret that no one else did. Ev̱gení̱s did not smile. Behind him, stood the strapping Robb Stark, who wore a simple brown leather doublet. He looked smaller without all of his thick fur pelts. Ev̱gení̱s managed to make a smile for him.

Sansa ignored the fair haired boy, and spoke directly to her brother. "Robb, come and watch. Ev̱gení̱s is going to read the lines in our hands."

Robb sat beside Ev̱gení̱s and she lowered her head in a smile. He seemed in bright spirits and he smiled back at her, making eye contact.

"Can that really be done? I thought that was just a story that Septa Mordane told." He finished. "May we join you, my Lady?" He asked her.

"You may." Ev̱gení̱s smiled her friendly smile and bore her perfect teeth. "Sansa has already taken to calling me Ev̱gení̱s. Perhaps you should too. If it please you, my Lord."

"Well then you must call me Robb." He chimed. He looked more like a _Robb _than a_ Lord _now in his simple clothes.

The fair haired boy sat in front of him, and next to Arya. "This is Theon Greyjoy."

" Ev̱gení̱s." Theon nodded, without asking permission to call her by her blessed name.

Ev̱gení̱s leaned over Arya's hands again, "Fortune telling is rubbish. Better left to gypsies than the high born. In the Iron islands, no one takes these sorts of things to heart." Theon explained from across the table.

"Perhaps your people fear what they do not know." Ev̱gení̱s entered in a battle of wits, continuing to read Arya.

He answered back quickly with a sharp tongue, "We Greyjoys don't fear the unknown. We conquer it." Ev̱gení̱s patience were growing thin. She was taught not to engage in controversy, but there was something about this _Theon Greyjoy_ that disagreed with her.

"Well, that seems silly." Ev̱gení̱s began, turning Arya's hand to reveal what the side said about her. "Anyone who tries to conquer the unknown is a fool. Everyone knows what you don't know, can certainly hurt you. I thought you would know that. Pike is an island isn't it? Sailors always know about dangers that are out of their hands." She looked up at Arya. "You're right handed."

"You're right!" Arya said out loud. "It's magic!"

Ev̱gení̱s laughed. "No, not magic I'm afraid. You can tell if someone is left or right of hand by the calluses on their fingers."

Robb laughed under his breath.

Theon let out a grunt and smiled at Arya. "You see. Rubbish."

"Perhaps you will offer your hands?" Ev̱gení̱s sat up straight. "Then you can tell me if it's rubbish."

Theon stared at her as though he was amused. His eyes were very light and they almost hurt to look at. "Alright then." He nodded.

Ev̱gení̱s went back to Arya at last and began her reading. "You are independent. No. _Very_ independent." She corrected. "You have Stark black hair not be accident, but because you fashion yourself an outcast." She looked up and saw Arya gaping in amazement. Quickly, she went back to work. "You don't cry easily, and when you are upset, you yell and scream instead. Is that right? You've a hot temper?"

The table laughed together. "That's Arya." Said Sansa.

Ev̱gení̱s continued, remaining in her element. "You don't like doing Lady like things, like sewing or dancing. You like rough play." Everyone seemed more interested as the reading went on. "Lucky you, a very long lifeline, and many children." Ev̱gení̱s traced the deepest longest line on her palm and the small lines on the side of her hand.

"I'll be next then. Let's get this over with." Theon quipped. Moving in front of Ev̱gení̱s. He held out his hands and Ev̱gení̱s took them up on both of hers. He stirred and looked to Robb as if he were pleased. Ev̱gení̱s has noticed from the top of her eyes.

"I wouldn't smirk so much if I were you Greyjoy." Ev̱gení̱s smiled, looking down at his troubling lines of fortune.

"And why not?" The curves in his face faded into straight lines almost instantly. Ev̱gení̱s pointed to what she saw.

"You're very proud. You like women a great deal, though, they might not like you as much." Robb held up his fist to his mouth and laughed into it, masking it as a cough. "Let's see here, oh, you like the sea. It calls to you." Ev̱gení̱s looked up, and gave him the first sweet smile she had ever given him. "On that account, we are very alike. It's just too bad..." She trailed off.

"What is it?!" Arya yelled the words that everyone else was thinking. Theon's mouth almost gaping in anticipation.

Ev̱gení̱s smile faded, "That you have too short a lifeline for you and I to ever make it in friendship." They all laughed except for Theon. "Oh, and don't worry. I shall keep your little secret." Ev̱gení̱s lied. There was no secret, but she liked to idea of seeing him squirm. The table roared louder and Theon took his hands away and rose from the table.

"Oh come on Theon!" Robb roared. "It's all in fun!"

"Let him go. I want to hear my fortune!" Sansa said eagerly.

"I should go after him." Robb said quickly rising from the table. "Ev̱gení̱s." He nodded and trotted away.

She watched as he moved through the crowd. "Your brother cares very much for his friend..." Ev̱gení̱s said, lazily turning around.

"He's going to ask you to dance later. Theon dared him." Arya blurted out with indifference. Sansa looked at her with wide open eyes. "What? I spied them talking earlier before the feast."

Ev̱gení̱s contemplated the idea. She knew there had been something going on with that Theon Greyjoy.

"You shouldn't snoop." Sansa scolded. "Please Ev̱gení̱s won't you read my hands now?" She pleaded, quickly changing the subject.

While she traced her fingers along Sanas's hand she continued to think of dancing with Robb Stark. She supposed he would make a pleasant husband for anyone. Tall, handsome, and the future heir of Winterfell. Yet, she could not discover why she had been so saddened by the thought.

Sansa's hand was delicate, and she had a gentle soul. She didn't have blemish on her milky white skin that might say she was a liar. Ev̱gení̱s thought for a moment that she herself was a liar. If she danced with Robb Stark, or anyone else who was high or low born, she would be hiding behind her charms. Concealing the truth, that she was barren. She could never forgive herself if she seduced someone into falling in love with her, trapping him in her web long enough to see that she would not be able to give him an heir.

She finished off with Sansa's hand and she could not contain her happiness. Her cheeks grew red as though the winter frost had made its way inside the great hall. She looked to her right and spied Prince Joffrey watching her from across the way.

Ev̱gení̱s suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy for Sansa. She was so young, still free to hope and have dreams. She didn't have to worry herself with whether or not she would bleed, or have sons, or even fall in love. For her, it would just _be_. It would happen in good time and good fortune.

She watched as some of her men began to assemble along the wall. They began to assemble their drums and prepare themselves for a traditional Myrish dance. Ev̱gení̱s promised herself that once those drums began to strike, she would forget her thoughts and get lost back in Myr.

"My Lady." Ev̱gení̱s turned her hair to see one of her entertainers who she knew to be Fo̱tós. He leaned in closer. "Shall I begin with the entertainment?"

"Yes. I think our Northern friends could do with some heat." Fo̱tós laughed and backed away slowly.

"As you wish my Lady."

"What entertainment?" Arya asked curiously.

"You'll see." Ev̱gení̱s turned herself to watch. The Starks and most of their guests seemed to do the same. Ev̱gení̱s could see the King himself turn in interest.

Father introduced Fo̱tós. in what the Northerners would call a booming voice. Ev̱gení̱s. knew it as a typical speaking tone in a noisy marketplace in Myr. The drummers were preparing themselves alone the perimeter, and Ev̱gení̱s' heart was beginning to dance already. She felt the warmth of home.

The drums were first and they thundered loudly throughout the hall. The smaller children covered their ears, while Ev̱gení̱s smiled and enjoyed the beat of her homeland.

Fo̱tós began his _fiamma danza, _his dance with flames. A Myrish dance custom which signified the warmth and passion of the Myrish people. Fo̱tós danced with such ferocity that Ev̱gení̱s could not help but smile. The flames moved on chains with thick sulfur balls on the end so quickly that the bright lights left images behind in the air. The men roared and thumped the heavy wooden tables so that the room shook with the drums. The sound of people drawing in large breaths of awe and wonder filled the room. Ev̱gení̱s closed her eyes and for a moment, and the heat and the noise made her feel like she was at home. She remembered the warmth and security of her hiding places. The feel of white hot sand burning the soles of her feet, only made her run faster from her mother and her unkind words. She could walk into the deeper wave pools inside open caves and hide for hours in those crystal blue waters. Father always said that deep water could hide reflections well. If those waters could speak, they would know all of her secrets. They would know every inch of her body, and when she lied on the shoreline, the tide would come in and run its fingers through her hair. When the tide was too high to soothe, she would bid it goodnight and watch it follow her back into a bath, where she would scrub away the oil lines on her body, until tomorrow.

The drums were getting louder, and her heart moved faster in succession. Her arm grew goose pimples and she wished it were warmer at Winterfell.

Suddenly, the table shook and Sansa began to rise from her table as all but Ev̱gení̱s was seeming to do. "Come on Ev̱gení̱s, how can you stand not to dance!" She called as she ran to the floor with less tables.

The Northern people were going wild with happiness and watched how the Mryish visitors danced, and seemed to follow. Even Theon Greyjoy seemed to be dancing with a young handmaiden. Ev̱gení̱s could stand not to dance because she was getting lost in her head. She rose and began moving to the floor. She needed to release her poor thoughts.

She moved along side Sansa and began to teach her the traditional dance. She turned which way and that, clapped her hands, and even showed her ankles, which was much to Sansa's laughter and surprise. The young girl looked around as if to say: _do you think anyone saw you? _Her shock amused Ev̱gení̱s. After all, they were just ankles. In Myr, she showed them all the time. It was too warm sometimes, for long heavy gowns such as this one.

Ev̱gení̱s turned again and stopped abruptly, almost losing her footing. Robb Stark stood before her again, and for the second time that night, he greeted her. He leaned in close and yelled in her ear. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with this dance. Will you teach me?" He finished pulling away to an appropriate distance again._Well played Robb Stark_, Ev̱gení̱s thought to herself.

She didn't answer him. She just smiled and nodded. Though there was chaos all around. He seemed genuinely interested in learning. She turned her back to him and clapped her hands just above her forehead. She then did the same as she turned back to face him. Slowly they continued to move in unison. Robb Stark was no dancer, but when the dance called for them to get close, Ev̱gení̱s did not seem to mind.

She continued to twirl as they both threw the dance to the wind. The torches on the wall turned to blurs and she could not longer remember the steps that she was supposed to be teaching.

She noticed a few individuals who had became exhausted and moved to sit down. Theon Greyjoy among them. He sat next to a different girl than he had been dancing with, and Ev̱gení̱s thought that he must have thought himself quite a heartthrob. She ignored him and his girl until it became impossible to overlook those on the sidelines.

She could see some of them whispering and looking in her direction. Whether they were genuinely talking about her or not, she could not be sure, but she felt like all eyes were on her. She turned and noticed similar folk on the other side of the room doing the same. Ev̱gení̱s began to slow down. She could not bare being trapped in her own head. Surely, they all had better things to talk about than her, and truly, they might have been talking about someone or something else. But Ev̱gení̱s' head insisted that they were aiming to hurt her. That each and everyone knew her secret. It would be simple for one sailor to have heard the news and spread it like wildfire...

"Have you become tired? Would you like to sit?" Robb yelled, straining to reach his voice over the music. Ev̱gení̱s suddenly became aware that she was standing still in the middle of the floor. She heard a group of girls giggle and stare in her direction, looking over their shoulders sinfully. Ev̱gení̱s lost her composure.

"I'm fine." She insisted to Robb. "I just need some air."

"I'll accompany you." He offered

"No." She said almost bluntly. He seemed slightly taken aback. "I mean. No, I just need to be alone and breathe, I'll return shortly. No need to trouble yourself, my Lord." She said hurriedly. She lowered her head, and walked quickly towards the nearest door.

He called after her in a voice that was barely audible from before, "It's Robb..."

When she finally grasped the door handle, she flung it open and ran through. Closing it behind her roughly and leaning her back against it.

_Was it real? _She wondered. _Have they all found out my secret? So soon?_ She took in a deep breath and realized quickly that it could not be. How could they all know? No one in her party hated her so much as to tell the North of her shame. Though, they were drunk with wine...

She closed her eyes again and listened to the sounds of the feast and music drown behind the great wooden door. Suddenly, it seemed too quiet. The North was such a strange place, the outside was dark and soundless, leave the wind blowing through the leafless trees. She could feel cold drops land on her cheeks, and she opened her eyes to find her lashes mounted by white flakes.

She had not yet seen snow fall, and though cold, she thought it beautiful and calming. She wanted the warmth, but perhaps this is what she needed. It began to fall in larger mounds. The North had mysteries that she could not understand yet. How could something fall in such large pieces from the sky and yet, float and land so gracefully?

She began to walk from the door towards the trees and frosted grass. She slid slightly and let out a squeal. _Snow is slippery too? _She wondered, beginning to think that the snow's beauty did not outweigh its faults.

Her tracks were large as her gown shoveled the earth. The damp had already soaked through her shoes and pricked her feet. This cold had a_ bite _that she had never felt before. _No wonder the Starks chose the Dire Wolf as their sigil._

She lifted her dress and stepped as lightly as she could until she reached a stone bench. She used her arm to wipe the snow away and sat on the edge. The wind blew and she folded her arms with difficulty over her large chest. _This dress seemed so warm in Myr..._

As she continued to watch the snowflakes dance, she could not help but think of Sansa again, and the rumors she had just thought she heard. She let out a breath of air and watched it float out of her mouth and into the sky,_ to dance with the flakes, _she thought.

Sansa seemed to adore the Prince, and she looked so content. She remembered how simple it was when she was young enough to still hope for her moon blood. Or even before that, when waiting for such things were not yet a concern. There was such hope then...


	5. Evgenís: The Meeting

She placed her face into her hands and stood still for what felt like hours. She could feel the warm water gathering in her eyes though she dared not weep. She rubbed the water away all she could without looking up.

"Who's there?!"

Ev̱gení̱s jumped from her seating position and stood straight as a pin. Frozen, she held her breath. There in front of her stood a tall boy, perhaps her age. He had her ink hair and eyes as dark.

He had a sword in his hand, unsheathed. He put his head down slightly and looked to the side as he sheathed it once more. The sword made the sound of metal on leather as it entered. "You're Lady Kyría." He recognized her, not moving his eyes from her face.

"Jon." She blurted out. This was the half bother Arya has spoken of.

His eyes opened wider for a moment and he surveyed her. "Have we _met_?" He was genuinely confused, and his tone read nothing of rudeness.

Ev̱gení̱s shook her head, and used her hands to assist her speech. "No, I-" She began, "We have not met, no." She felt foolish, how could he know how she had come to know his name? "You're Jon. I know it you by your look. You are exactly as your younger sister described you. Hair as dark as mine." She almost laughed.

"Arya?" He asked.

"Yes. Arya." Ev̱gení̱s took in another breath and watched it fade away into nothing. They were both quiet for a moment. _Had he been in the crowd with all the Starks? How could I have overlooked him? _Ev̱gení̱s could plainly see how different he was from the others, save Arya. As she looked upon him a moment longer, she became baffled. She had had black features her whole life, and not once did she ever find them particularly beautiful. She wanted the blue eyes and deep red hair of mermaids, but standing before Jon, made her reconsider the beauty of black.

"You should not be out here my Lady. You are not dressed for the outside." He had no furs on either, but was wearing a plain, dark leather doublet.

"I know. I, just needed some air." She watched him move to her left and dust the snow off a straw man. He nodded and barely smiled. "I would take your air quickly as you can Lady Kyría, you might find the air in the North bites after you take it in for too long."

Ev̱gení̱s did not move. She knew all too well the _bite_ if the North. "Yes. I've noticed. I did not expect it to be quite so cold.

This time he let out a small laugh and looked back. "Welcome to Winterfell."

She smiled at her own folly and nodded.

She continued to watch him prepare his straw man for combat. He was tall and lean, and the leather showed off the thickness of his arms. She looked back at the doors to the hall and knew that she was not ready to go back. She wanted to stay and speak with this, Jon.

"Prey, why have you not heeded the North's bite? Why are you here, and not enjoying the feast?" She moved some hair out of her face absent mindedly.

He was quiet and he seemed to stop fussing over the straw man for a time. She was about to ask him if he had heard her, when he spoke, "Lady Stark thought it might insult the Royal family to seat bastard in their midst."

After another small silence he continued to work with his back turned. Ev̱gení̱s scrunched up her face like she had gotten a nasty bruise. She had a sudden hunger for her foolish words. She took a few steps towards him.

"Did I offend you? I apologize." She said quickly. "Oft, I can be so simple." She could not say why she was so interested in apologizing to a man of inferior birth. Perhaps, it was his concern for her earlier, or Arya's obvious affection towards him.

"You really should go back inside Lady Kyría. You might catch cold." He was upset by having to explain himself. It was evident in his tone.

"I cannot go back inside." She had wounded him mayhaps, and now, she thought to make amends.

"Why not?" He asked with his back still turned.

"I do not think I belong. Not for the same reasons perhaps, but..." She closed her eyes and shrugged when she opened them.

He turned around and looked at her with suspicious eyes, he thought perhaps that she was mocking him. He studied her from top to bottom and when he finished, he looked her in the eye and grew closer by a few steps. She winced and looked into the distance. Growing uncomfortable she broke the silence. "Are you making a study of me?" She looked back at him, and met his eyes.

He was indeed every bit as tall and strapping as his half brother Robb. Though he had that darker features of Lord Stark. She wondered again how she could have overlooked him in the crowd upon her arrival.

"You look like you belong." He said, almost upset.

"Well I don't. I assure you." She stood her ground. "You don't have the look of someone of inferior birth." She did not choose to use the word bastard. It was foul. "If we had met each other at a market or on the King's road, you would be a man and I a woman, and we could presume nothing more." She swallowed and watched as he listened to what she had to say. "I do not belong in there any more than you do. Trust me." She leaned forward slightly.

He still seemed confused, perhaps even curious.

"Why is it that you don't belong? You are a high born Lady of M-"

"A story perhaps for another day." She said, refusing to continue. She looked down to her hem and sucked her teeth. Now caked with mud and snow, it was likely beyond repair. "Now I really can't go back in. My hem is destroyed. What would the Queen say if she saw this?"

He still did not seem to be interested in changing the subject. He dropped his head and winced. "Who's idea was it to wear a dress like this to the North?" He asked, looking at her as if to say that whomever it was, was no genius.

Ev̱gení̱s looked from her dress to him and rolled her eyes. "My _mother_." She said with distain in her voice.

"It was a poor choice. Perhaps Myr is was plenty warm, but here, Ladies wear much heavier garbs. My sisters own nothing like this." The snob in her wanted to say that it was because they were too fine a garb for them to afford, but her dislike for her mother made her smile.

"I will tell her all about how foolish I looked once I return to Myr. She won't like that." Ev̱gení̱s looked back to him, the smile still on her face. "Do you know a better way to get back to my chambers? Another entrance perhaps?"

He took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. "There is another way, but it's a long walk around the castle."

"Wonderful." She expressed her gratitude by touching his arm.

He strode past her and led the way. Not entirely thrilled about the idea. "Did something happen? Were you treated poorly?" He asked looking over his shoulder slightly. Though the subject of why she did not belong had passed, he was still guessing. Ev̱gení̱s liked that.

"No, I suppose not. Not exactly."

He did not know what to make of that answer. Even from the back of his head she could tell if he was confused. "I just can't bare the idea of having to be in the same room as Theon Greyjoy." He laughed. It was the first time she had seen him smile though he did not answer. "I fear he knows too much about me already. I will not stand by while the world gocks at my misfortunes."

His smile faded slowly and he turned to look at her again while he continued to walk sideways. Confusion was becoming his food and drink for the evening. Ev̱gení̱s knew she had said too much already.

"And this _misfortune_?" He began, as he started to walk with his back turned once more. "You fear that it is _too_ great to overcome?" He asked, but something in his tone seemed in-genuine, like he had not really believed her.

"Yes." This time, she was stern. He thought she was just a little idiot with her braids on too tight. He thought perhaps that she couldn't dance, or that she might have stumbled upon her entrance. Foolish problems.

She smiled again, though she had no clue why. Had it been anyone else, she might have been upset.

"If you say so, _my Lady_." He said her title so plainly that she knew he was still unmoved.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you know my name? It's Ev̱gení̱s. Call me Ev̱gení̱s." She spoke with less and less frustration as the sentence came to a close.

"Very well, Ev̱gení̱s.

It was quote for a short while as her skirts continued to overturn snow. "You could still enjoy the feast you know. Lady Stark would be none the wiser. There are people a plenty, high and low born."

"That feast is no place for me. I'd sooner wait out here for my uncle Benjen."

"You uncle? Would he not be among the rest, indoors?"

"My uncle is a man of the Night's Watch. He can stand the cold. He comes here rarely, and when he does, he never stays long enough to take part in feasts."

"The Night's Watch." Ev̱gení̱s repeated. "What's that?" She asked curiously.

"You've never heard of the Night's Watch?" He looked over his shoulder yet again.

"No, but I'd like to hear about it. I've been learning more and more about the North since I arrived. Please, tell me what it is?"

"It's farther North than most men will ever go, and it's something of a House I suppose. It's every mans right to join if he so chooses. To be a man of the Night's Watch means that you are sworn to protect the realm from what lies beyond the Wall."

"Like a Knight?" She smiled.

He laughed under his breath. "More like a member of the Kings guard. You're sworn to protect, yes, but once you take your vows, you cannot keep any lands, or take a wife, or father children."

Ev̱gení̱s didn't like that, but his uncle was on this Night's Watch, and she would not show her distain.

"There is nothing like that in Myr." She finished. They reached the entrance of castle finally, and entered. She quickly thought to change the subject. "At the feast, I read your sisters' palms."

"Can you do that, truly?" He asked suspiciously.

She sucked her teeth. "There now, you sound like Theon Greyjoy." Her smiled faded.

He laughed loudly, and his smile was genuine. "Did he upset you?"

Ev̱gení̱s took in a deep breath. "I don't care fro him." This only made him laugh more.

"No one really does. Robb is the only who can stomach him. What did he say to you?"

"Never mind." She smiled at him slyly. "Don't change the subject. I would like your lines before we part."

He looked at her with a shy smile, that spoke of uncertainty.

"Don't fret." She contorted him, "It doesn't hurt. Your sisters seemed very intrigued." They moved up the stairs which Ev̱gení̱s remembered from earlier. Her room was very close and the music was sounding again throughout the castle.

"Old Nan used to tell us stories of Myrish sorcerers who would read the lines in a man's hand. She said to be wary of what they say."

They rounded the corner, and Ev̱gení̱s could see her the large oak door of her room. "Well, I can assure you I am no sorcerous. If I were, I would have been able to find my own way." She strode faster towards the door and leaned her back against it. "Your hand." She insisted. "A thank you for escorting me safely to my chambers."

He walked towards her slowly, and began to lift his hand. In an instant, she grabbed the one he offered, and the other he did not. "Two is always better than one." She said calmly, looking straight into the lines.

His hands were moist, and she could feel how warm he was. She could even smell him, he wore no perfumes or musk. She expected that all Northmen smelled like him, nothing but the scent of the cold outdoors.

"You have a long life ahead of you." She began, tracing a long dominant line all the way to the back of his palm. "You are a good with a sword. Though, I need only to look at the scraps on your knuckles to see that." Men who feared having their knuckles bleed were not usually bold enough to wield a sword. She noticed that she was smiling as she spoke, though he remained silent and focused. She knew that she wanted him to be more interested.

"Hrmmm, that's very interesting." She made herself say.

"What? Whats wrong?" He asked, almost alarmed. She smiled larger than before, and lifted her head to look into his eyes. He was close, closer than she had anticipated. She blinked and moved back.

"Pardon. I am growing weary." She could feel the colour filling into her cheeks. She released his hands and felt a cool, wet breeze. Grasping her skirts, she wiped away the sweat.

He looked to be stroking his own doublet, likely removing the damp as well. She watched as he left watery wisps along the leather. She thought she might smile again, but he watched her so intently, she dared not.

Suddenly, her door swung open. Ev̱gení̱s jumped back, a step closer to Jon Snow yet again. Her handmaiden was startled as well.

"My Lady. I beg your pardon. I thought you would not return for hours. Shall I draw your bath?"

Ev̱gení̱s turned looked from her to Jon quickly. The silence grew until her maidens smile faded and she looked between the two of them. "Yes. Yes, of course." Her maid held open the door and Ev̱gení̱s strode through. "Perhaps we shall meet again tomorrow to break fast." She said through the doorway.

He nodded, his hands now back at his sides and the rest of the sweat dried away. "Tomorrow. Yes." He nodded, his mouth remaining open.

Ev̱gení̱s lowered her head and held back a laugh as the door closed. The other hand maidens rose to their feet and strode towards her. As they began to undo her braids and the laces in her gown, she continued to smile to herself.


	6. Jon: A Pretty Name

Jon did not go back to the yard like he had originally planned that evening. He walked to his own chambers, listening to the music rise and fade as he moved past thick stone walls. _Ev̱gení̱s. _He thought her name a few times. He touched his hands together and could almost feel her touching him again. _She was just reading my palm. No more. _

He remembered her from that morning, he saw he move towards the Stark family through a cloud of grey and brown, the only colour for what seemed like miles. Hard to miss, he watched her from his standing position behind the Stark children.

He had known what Theon Greyjoy had thought of her as well. Though he did not like it. '_A pretty dress, though I'd like to see whats beneath it.' _Jon was not so surprised. Theon has dishonored the Queen herself when they were being shaved. Robb did not laugh much at his jest. He simply smiled to humour him.

He found his room and disappeared behind the door before someone could disturb his thoughts. He remembered those dark eyes, and the long lashes that fluttered above them. They may not have been a vibrant blue or green, or very large, but they sparkled just the same, and seemed to hypnotize.

He strived to recall the colour of her gown. _Was is green? _It did not matter, once he saw long raven hair, and how the candle light got caught in it as she walked. The evening might have been a loss, if not for the beguiling Myrish girl with the pretty name. He wondered if it meant anything in her language. In the common tongue of Westeros, it evoked a short _e a_nd a gentle_ s._

He moved towards his bed and began to unbuckle his doublet, when there was a knock at his door. Forgetting to re-buckle, he answer it.

Robb stood there, as freshly shaven as him, in his finest clothes. "Jon." He said moving into the room. When candlelight reached him, Jon saw large beads of sweat cascading down his forehead and cheeks, his hair, soaked.

"Is something wrong?"Jon asked.

"No. I was jus wondering why you were not at the feast. I know what father said, but no one is in their seats any longer. Not a soul would notice. My mother sits with the Queen, far from the dance floor."

"Well, why are you not still in the great hall?"

"I'm going back, I was just looking for you, and," He paused for a moment and smiled lightly to one side of his mouth. "Do you remember the Myrish girl from this morning, the one who gave the silks to my mother."

_Yes. " _I think so." He lied.

"Did you happen to see where she got off to?" He leaned his torso outside of the room and looked from left to right. "I was dancing with her when she said she needed to take some air." He finished, bringing his upper body back into the room.

Jon wondered if it was Robb that had offended her. "I did. She was outside when I was going to train. She wanted to go back to her chambers, and asked me to escort her."

"Oh." Robb said flatly, waiting a few moments in silence before speaking again. "Do you think she'll go back?"

"I think not. Her hand maiden met her at the door and asked to draw her a bath." Jon remembered the words so clearly, their whole interaction played his mind without any effort.

Robb nodded. "I danced with her." He said proudly.

"I hope she's a better dancer than you." Jon laughed under his breath.

Robb smiled at his jest. "And what did you talk about then?"

_There were so many things, I can't even remember them all._ "Nothing. Though she read the lines in my hands."

Robb tossed back his head and chortled."Theon got his read too. She made a jest about him and he skulked away. It was great sport, you should have seen. She did Sansa and Arya as well."

Jon let out a breath of air, whilst his shoulders fell slightly. She had read both his sister's hands and Theon's. Jon was no more special then them. Or had she already told him that? Was he simply not paying attention? Only hearing what he waned. Still, he forced a smile. "I wish I could have." It was not untrue. He would have loved to see Theon upset by the very maid he had tried to dishonour hours before.

"The King announced that there is to be a hunt tomorrow. The entire royal family is invited. Father bids that we will all go, and Lord Kyría said that he will ask Ev̱gení̱s to join as well."

His heart became lighter once more. He could use a hunt. He could bring Ghost out again, he needed to hunt as well.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Early." Robb gave a half smile and turned his heel for the door. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Jon called back as he shut the door.

He got undressed, and laid back onto his bed. He placed his hands behind his head as let his legs hung off the edge. Robb had found her beautiful too, and so did Theon, though he did not care what he thought. He began to think again if she had truly paid him any attention beyond a Lady's courtesies. _Would she? A high born Lady of Myr, interested in a bastard. Perhaps I am reading too much into it. She has a pleasant face, but there is no future for her and a bastard._

He thought back through their conversation. '_You look like you belong.' _He had said to her._ Why would she feel like she did not?_ '_A story perhaps for another day.' _He remembered her saying.

He sat up and looked at his hands again. They became sweaty once more.


	7. Evgenís: The Hunt

Ev̱gení̱s walked out from the open castle doorway back into the filthy mud puddles of Winterfell. She tried to step lightly as she pulled on her riding gloves. She had only found out about the hunt that morning, and though the hour was early, she found herself compelled to go. Last night, during her bath, she reviewed her evening. She recalled how her heart sunk into her stomach when she thought that everyone might know her shame, and yet, those thoughts failed when she thought of Jon Snow. He had a nice smile, and his palms told of a kind, and honourable heart.

She could see father mounting a horse that was not his own, and she began to wonder what had happened to it. Lord Stark was already mounted and was watching the King struggle to mount his. Still on the ground was Robb, he was walking about his horse fastening the saddle.

Behind him was Jon, who had just arrived with a saddle on his shoulder. He carried it like it was nothing, and she watched him threw it into the horse and begin to tighten it in place.

Ev̱gení̱s smiled and quickened her pace, her heart beating faster. Theon Greyjoy stepped out from behind his mount, and made she face uncaring if anyone saw. _Can I even stand another moment with Theon Greyjoy?_

Some feet away were the Queen's brothers and a small party of their own. Tyrion Lannister was already saddled and next to his brother. He was every bit as ugly as the rumours proclaimed. She had not had the honour of a proper introduction, but she was sure to get one today. Jaime Lannister seemed like everything a proud knight from a child's storybooks might have foretold. Handsome, tall, and fair of hair, Ev̱gení̱s might have thought him a Prince, if she did not know better.

"Lady Kyría." She stopped, not knowing who had called her name. "I do not believe we have yet met." _Tyrion Lannister._

"Lord of Lannister." She said before even turning around. "It is a pleasure indeed." She performed her loveliest courtesy. "Our sweet sister was pleased to receive some of your fine silks."

"It is an honor to serve the crown my Lord." She lowered her head.

"Tyrion please. But only if I can call you_ Ev̱gení̱s. _I do like that name. I've always found names from Essos to be so much more interesting."

Ev̱gení̱s laughed, "If it please you," She paused for a moment, "Tyrion."

"_Ev̱gení̱s." _He said jokingly, letting the '_s' _last longer than it needed to, he nodded, smiled and moved his horse away.

She smiled and lowered her head again as he ride past.

"Keep your head up." She lifted her head quickly and saw that Jaime Lannister had spoken. He was more handsome up close. "It would be a shame to hide a face such as yours." He smiled and trotted away as well, leaving her too bashful to conceive an answer.

"Ev̱gení̱s!" Father called her out of her trance. Each person turned to face her direction, save the King, who's belly still stopped his mount. She broke into a brisk walk to join them.

"Good morning father." She said as she smiled, her now gloved hand moving a loose strand behind her ear. She wore it in a golden snood to keep the wind from disturbing it. It had gold netting with pearls embroidered into every link. She had always thought of it as jewelry for the hair.

As she looked around she could see no sign of the Queen or Princess Myrcella. _Was I the only woman who accepted the invitation?_

When she finally reached the crowd, Robb spoke at once. "Ev̱gení̱s, you came." He seemed genuinely pleased.

"I would not want to miss it." She said sweetly.

Jon joined his brother by her side. "Morning." He said, his smile large, and his eyes wincing in the sun. "We missed you when we broke fast." He began. Ev̱gení̱s wondered if that was a reminder of what she had said last night. "We thought you would not come."

Father chimed in loud as ever. "That's my girl! The only one to accept the invitation to a hunt!" He laughed his roaring laugh and seemed very proud. Lord Stark seemed pleased by fathers show of affection and smiled.

"You know I always love a good hunt father. Though, I am thinking that perhaps, I should not have come."

"Why not?" Robb asked promptly.

"I suppose I am out of my element. In Westeros, it seems that hunting is much less of a female outing. Perhaps I should stay behind."

"Not to worry Ev̱gení̱s." Lord Stark said first, "If you come, maybe these boys will catch something for a change." Father laughed at his joke.

She took a moment to think, when Jon spoke again. "You should come. It will make for better company." She could not say no now. She was proud and pleased that he considered her to be good company.

"Well, if I can find my horse, I will gladly come." She accepted.

"Ah, your horses and saddles have been taken to the stables for a good cleaning. But don't worry. You can have one of ours." Robb said, grabbing the reigns of one very large brown mare. Ev̱gení̱s' faced went from pleased to distressed. "Don't worry, our horses are the best in Westeros."

"I do not doubt your horses. It's my saddle that I will be needing." She spoke of her special saddle that would allow her to ride two legs aside, even at fast speeds.

Robb and Jon looked at each other, then quickly to their father.

Lord Stark leaned forward, "Can you not simply straddle the beast?"

Robb and Jon looked back to her swiftly, just in time for her to laugh and stutter her words. "You mean, one leg on each side?" Everyone nodded. "I'm afraid that now, I really am thinking that this was not a good idea." She shook her head, almost in fear.

"Ned!" The King's voice boomed over everyone else's, impatient and stern. The group turned to his direction right away. He rode up behind Ev̱gení̱s, "Put her on your son's horse. She can hold onto him. Come on now, let's get into the wood before it starts to piss rain."

Everyone's eyes widened at the King's word. Ev̱gení̱s, however, barely heard the filth. She simply smiled at the idea of riding with Jon. She could hold on tight and pretend to be afraid to fall off...

"Excellent idea." Father said quickly. " Ev̱gení̱s can ride with your boy Robb, and we can get onto our hunt!" The older men rode away slowly, clearly impatient.

Ev̱gení̱s smiled faded, and she looked to Jon quickly. He smiled with his mouth closed and watched her as she began to turn and walk towards Robb's steed. Jon mounted quickly, swinging his leg over the beast with ease. He was so much taller then her, Ev̱gení̱s could never mount on the first try.

She turned to face Robb and he seemed to beam with happiness. His hands looked like they might be ready to lift. "Can I help you?" He asked, his hands hovering in the air near her waist.

"Yes. Could you?" She asked sweetly. It was always easier to mount a horse with a man's help. She thought of Jon's sweaty palms, and how it might have felt to have his hands on her.

Robb placed his hands on her waist and lifted her up onto the horses back, a green waterfall of dress cascading over the side. Robb smiled all the while as he got onto the horse. She had a moments pause before she wrapped her arms around his chest and held on tightly. She could feel the fine stitching in his doublet as she moved her fingertips about, and the thick fur on his cloak tickled her nose. Turning her head to the side, she watched Jon ride beside them. He wore a thick fur cloak, just as his brother, only, Jon's matched the darkness in his eyes. Ev̱gení̱s did not much care for the climate in the North, but she did like the way the men looked and carried themselves. She found that all of their layers and furs made them look at least two sizes larger.

"Ghost, come!" Ev̱gení̱s could not be sure of what Jon was calling.

"Greywind!" Robb yelled after him. Ev̱gení̱s smiled and leaned over slightly to get Robb and Jon's attention.

"Who are you calling?" Before either of them could speak, she had her answer. She took in a large breath deeply through her throat when two colossal wolves, half she size of Robb's horse strode up beside them. She clung to Robb's chest tighter.

"Don't be frightened Ev̱gení̱s. Ghost and Greywind are loyal beasts." Robb said over his shoulder, tilting his head to the left as much as he could.

"You own these creatures?" She asked with her eyes wide.

"We found them by their mother, deep in the wood. She looked like she had been dead for days."

"And you saved them all. How gallant." She smiled speaking to no brother in particular.

"I would have slit their throats. Would have made an excellent pelt." Ev̱gení̱s turned to look behind her, where Theon Greyjoy was riding. "And if I didn't use it for a cloak, I would have used it to keep warm in the night." He finished, looking at her with that slimy smile that she loathed. _Keep him warm in the night? And woman or two no doubt. _She thought again that he might know of her shame, but she could not be sure. She broke her eye contact with him, and ignored his comment by changing the subject.

"I should thank you again for inviting me. I thought I would see Arya here for certain." The smile fell from Theon's face as quickly as if she had slapped it down to the ground. He galloped away in haste, not to be humiliated again.

Jon and Robb laughed in unison, apparently glad to be rid of Theon's comment as well. Robb answered her, "Arya begged to come for hours, but father said she was too young."

Ev̱gení̱s could remember a time when she was too young to do the things that she wanted. When she was sent to bed early before a grand feast, or forced to stay home during a hunt. "I remember when my father told me I couldn't go hunting for the first time."

"You _demanded_ to go as I recall. Acted like a little Princess." Father called back from ahead. She could see the hunting party smiling at the idea. "And when we came home, you had forgotten all about it. We found you under a tree holding a feast for your dolls. Leaves for the main course." Ev̱gení̱s could remember that little girl, her dinner guests were more lively these days.

"That sounds like my daughter." Lord Stark began. "Only Arya would be more like to be climbing the trees than sitting under them." The Stark family laughed together, and soon, Winterfell was gone, lost behind hundreds of moss covered trees.

The hunt lasted until the sun was beginning to set in the West. The day had been a miserable one for the weather, but a glorious one for a hunt. They would return with two stags, three boars, and over a dozen rabbits of every colour.

Ev̱gení̱s spent most of her time on Robb's steed, speaking to him and Jon. She wished she could have spent the day with Jon alone, clinging to his chest while he rode, and feeling the fur on his cloak stoke her face.

"We'll stop for a time before we head back to Winterfell. SEVEN HELLS! This riding will be the death of me." The King yelled from his horse. Though once he got off, he seemed to have nothing else to speak of, save the hunt. He was a large man with a fat belly and a rosy face. Ev̱gení̱s thought him a drunk, with the smell and sound of wine constantly on his breath. It was hard however, not to admit his strength. When he went in pursuit of a beast, he was more powerful than any younger man, and twice as fierce.

Once everyone else got off from their saddles, Ev̱gení̱s waited for assistance. She could feel a hard bruise from her hip to her thigh. She began to stir, when Robb came around to her.

He placed his hands on her waist and helped her down. She could see Jon watching them from a distance, undoing his sword belt.

"Are you well?" Robb asked, noticing her grimace.

Ev̱gení̱s turner her gaze to him, "Yes. I'm very well, thank you for asking. I think I might take a turn about the wood to get my legs working again." She smiled.

"Yes, we could all use it. May I accompany you?" Ev̱gení̱s opened her mouth to answer when the booming sound of the King rung throughout the wood again.

"Ned! Tell one of your sons to come help me tie down these bucks. They weren't done right the first time! There's going to be rain, and I won't have the pelts ruined by this damned mud."

"Robb!" Lord Stark called from behind.

"Excuse me." Robb said quickly, moving to his fathers side. She watched as he tried to reposition the stags and tie them down with better knots.

She took in a deep breath and for the first time since she left for the hunt, she could feel the cold seeping into her bones. There was a dampness in the air that chilled like a cold cellar.

She began to pull on her riding gloves tighter. When she looked forward, Jon Snow had placed his belt over his saddle. He looked at her all the while from the top of his eyes as she massaged her frigid fingers.

"Cold again?"

She laughed under her breath, almost embarrassed. "I'm ashamed to say, but yes. I suppose I did not learn my lesson yesterday night."

He began to move towards her, the wet foliage bowing under his steps. "Well, last night, I could not help you in that regard." He began to undo his cloak.

"Oh no, please, I couldn't. You'll catch cold." She began to beg.

"I'm used to it." He insisted, swinging it over her shoulders before she could argue further.

"Thank you." She mouthed the words, but little came out, all she could do was take in his smell. He gazed towards the busy group with his eyes in small slits.

"I'd still like to walk. Could you come with me?" Ev̱gení̱s asked. He looked from her to the group once more.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait for Robb?"

"You've proven yourself an excellent guide." She reminded him. He stared at her for a moment, again and smiled without baring his teeth.

Ev̱gení̱s began to walk without him, a smile playing on her lips as she went. She wanted him to follow, to care about what happened to her.

"Alright." He said finally.

Ev̱gení̱s seemed to lead the way at first, until Jon caught up and walked by her side. She looked at him for a moment and watched. When she had first met him, his face was so clean of facial hair, and now, it had begun to come back. _He looks better like this, _she thought. He was started to look like a true Northman now, the kind Septa Senos used to tell her about as a child. Rough, bold, dirty, and good with a sword. It was quiet for a time, when Jon thought to break the silence.

"Sansa spoke highly of you this morning."

"Did she? Sansa is so very sweet, and beautiful. I heard a rumour that she might one day be the Queen of Westeros. I shall be making my deliveries to her someday."

"Perhaps." Jon said shortly.

"She was talking about Myr the whole time we were breaking fast. It can't be true that you wear gold in your ears. Can it?" He asked in wonder.

She stopped abruptly, and watched as he had to stop ahead of her and turn around. She grabbed one side of her snood and lifted to bare her right ear. She paid close attention to show him a great deal of her neck as well. She was suddenly thankful that she had dabbed a scent behind her lobes.

He leaned in close to see, and there, on her ear, was a tiny dot, no larger than a pin hole. "We pass the gold through that hole. It's very beautiful, in Myr." She finished shrugging, and lowering her hair again, he seemed disappointed that she had taken it away so soon. She strode past him with a smile that could have rivaled Theon's in slyness.

He watched as she walked by and looked on with interest. He may have become aware of her flirtation. Walking behind her, he did not bother to catch up. "Why are you not married?" He asked abruptly, it was his turn to burry under her skin.

She stopped and let out breath of air, stunned. She turned around to face him, though there were some steps between them now. She blinked a few times and gained her composure. "That's a loaded question." Was the only thing she could think to say, until..."Why are _you_ not married?" She answered with another question.

"You're older than me. Twenty and Three names days is what you told my father." He said back, his boldness growing.

"Oh, and am I _so _much older than you? An_ old_ maid?"

He lowered his head and smiled with his lips closed, intrigued that he might have struck a cord.

In truth, he did. Why she was not married was a question that would ruin her. The ultimate question. If she were able to bare children, she would be married right now, and there would be no Jon Snow, or Winterfell. There would be no problems in the world.

She could feel her heart getting heavy, and she looked down to the ground. "If I've given you any offense, it was not my intent." He began, but Ev̱gení̱s held out her hand to stop him. He truly didn't mean any offense by it. After all, how could he know about things like this. _Men_ barely know about things this terrible, and Jon Snow was still a boy.

"Do you want to know the truth of it?"

He took a few steps towards her, and began to walk by her side again. Treading the dead leaves beneath their feet. Ev̱gení̱s could feel the damp setting in more than before, a thin fog began to appear around their ankles, and her hair began to curl at the ends.

He did not answer her question, he just remained quiet and walked beside her, hanging on her every word, every breath.

She could not say why she was telling him this, though as the words came out, she could not help but feel safe. She looked up to the sky and spoke softly. "There were many arrangements, at last five. None of which came to pass. My latest failure was Reny Baratheon, though I'm sure that the arrangement was rooted in my fathers wealth, and my access to fine Myrish goods and fabrics." She allowed herself a something of a smile.

"Reny Baratheon?" He asked, his voice almost raised. "The Kings brother?" He winced, as though that would help him to understand.

"Is there any other?" She continued to look ahead. "Don't get too excited Jon Snow, as I said, it was a failure. They took one look at me and turned away." She lied, it was one look, but at her insides.

He shook his head again. _He's too smart for his own wellness. _She thought. She had seen that in his hand as well. Too much cleverness, coupled with too much honour was a recipe for doom. Had it not been for a long and well defined lifeline, she would have written him out of his own future.

"One look?" He asked again.

"One." She thought that she sounded very unconvincing, but still, she lied.

"That doesn't make sense." It sounded like something that he might have wanted to keep in his head. Something that his mouth was unable to keep a secret.

"Doesn't it? I'm not so great a beauty, Jon Snow." She said bluntly. He scrunched up his face and continued to shake his head, only slightly this time. She had no way of understanding what that meant. She simply thought him confused.

"Perhaps, a change in subject." She suggested.

"No." He said without authority. She continued to walk, getting ahead of him. "No." He said again, catching up. "Your stories are as fake as Old Nan's." She had heard of this Old Nan too many times since she came to Winterfell.

"You all have a poor opinion of this old woman. For all I've heard, she's been right about every story she's told. She says, 'Myrish people can read hands and grinds, they can tell your future' and you say, 'Old Nan is insane- and her stories are insane as well.' Then I come along, and I tell you they are true, and you all have the same idea in your thick heads. 'Old Nan's stories are foolish.' You need to spend more time listening."

He looked like he might have been riled, "Listen? Us? We sound less like wolves and more like mice when your people came to Winterfell. You all speak so loudly, I'm like to go deaf by the time the King leaves."

Now, they were both riled. She was always proud of her families loudness. _Those who yell the loudest, get the spoils_, she was taught. "Well, I always found quiet people to be shy, and shyness is just another way of saying that you are too weak to run with the strong." She didn't really believe what she had said, as it came from her mouth, she regretted it.

"That's not true. The quiet are dignified. They _think_ before they speak." He argued.

"I don't like to argue." _Another lie. _

Jon looked like he had something to say,

_CRASH._

A bolt of light flashed all around, and before Ev̱gení̱s could blink from the fear, it was gone.

"_What _was that?!" She said with emphasis.

A loud boom filled the space around her, and it felt as though the very earth had stirred. She didn't more, perfectly still, she stood there with her mouth wide open.

"The light is lightning, and the noise is thunder." He said, his face up to the sky. "Don't you have that where you are from?"

"No." She answered, still obviously scared. "We get a light rain very few times a year..."

As she said it, it began to poor from the sky like a well deserved cry. She blinked and stood there with her arms wide open in disgust and discomfort. She could feel the water seeping through her clothes, and soaking down, until the vibrant green was dull and dark.

Jon ran across the gap between them and took her wrist. "Come! We need to get to a shelter! I know this wood, follow me!" She had to lean in to hear him, he was screaming to what looked like the top of his lungs, but when that rain hit the ground, it was a pick axe to rock.

They ran full speed, or as fast as her legs could carry her in her dress. In seconds, her hair was soaked. She could not help but remember the first time she had seen rain. It was gentle and life giving, and she had only had four name days. Caught in the _storm_, she ran through the shore line and watched the water come up and slap her caves. She could remember being a warm kind of dampness. The most moisture she felt that day came from the ocean, not the sky. She could feel it even now, the humidity forcing her hair to cling to the side of her face, while small drops appeared on her tunic, she could count them.

This was not that gentle summer rain, and it was no rain for little girls to be playing in. As they ran, the water hit their faces harder, and she wondered why she could feel small sharp pinches on her cheeks. It burned the harder she ran, and she felt like she was being dragged.

"Where are we going?!" She yelled as loud as she could. She was louder than him, and was certainly heard.

He didn't answer, he just continued to pull her behind him as quickly as he could. "Hello?!" She called again.

"Why 'ould I ans'?!" She shook her head. He was impossible to hear, so she thought for a minute, trying to piece together his words. _Why should I answer? _Is what she thought she heard.

"What?!" She asked, not because she didn't hear him.

"Why should I answer?!" He yelled in her face now, turning his body to be seen and heard. Her wrist was still in his hand. "You don't like to answer my questions, so let's just keep right on keeping secrets!" She could heard him, though the rain was getting harder.

"Don't answer me then!" She yelled back, he would find shelter regardless, or they would both die. She would not give up her secret so easily.

Through the fog, and rain, and the pain all over her face, they went. Ahead, though faint, was the shelter he spoke of. It was made from black rock and green moss, a cave that would be the safe, dry place they needed.

He moved in first, and Ev̱gení̱s watched as he ducked, and did the same. To her surprise, it was not dry. The damp and cold was greater then the outside, but at least she had no sharp pains all over her face.

Their breathing was heavy and he released her wrist and leaned against the stone, despite the cold. She could see her chest heaving, even from outside the cloak he had given him.

"Are you alright?" He asked now in his regular voice, his chest still moving up and down vigorously.

"Yes. I think so. Though my face hurts." She winced, touching her cheeks with both hands."There were things hitting my face, cutting me."

"That's hail." He corrected. "Hail is ice."

"Ice from the sky? Why does anyone live here?!"

He leaned his back against the black stone wall, and though he was still heaving, he managed a small laugh.


	8. Evgenís: The Cave

She threw back her head and felt for her hair, her snood had been lost in the storm, and her curls clung to the back of her neck, heavy with water. Grabbing it all at once she rung out the water and tried to push away the bushy curls. She felt as ugly as she possibly could be, a drowned rat, with hair misplaced, and charcoal streaked from her eyes.

She looked at him from the top of her eyes, wanting to avoid his gaze. She could see him slowly looking at her from a top his eyes, while he attempted to dry himself. The lightning flashed again and the sounds of thunder came sooner after. She removed Jon's cloak, and it dropped to the stone ground with an echoing _splat._ It was full of water, and still did save the fabric of her dress.

"Is it always like this? Cold, and wet, and dangerous?" She said, continuing to ring out her hair, and smooth down the small coiling curls at the side of her head.

"Yes." Jon said surely. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Always."

She looked down at her dress, and for what felt like the hundredth time since she got to Winterfell, her hem had been destroyed. This time, the mud reached as high as her knee.

She blinked and leaned against the cave wall, it was colder than it looked, and twice as well, yet still, she pressed hard against it, and fell to the ground. She could feel her throat swelling up, and a wetness coming into her eyes. What was this? Where was she? Why did some boy, asking her a question, seem to have the power to bring her down onto a cold damp floor? She didn't weep. Quickly, she let out a breath of air and rubbed her face.

As she pulled her hands away, she could see what was left of the black charcoal lodged into her fingernails. She hung her head, not knowing whether she should laugh. _Mother would have something to say about this. _She always did. There was so much wrong with this. She was alone, in a dark cave, with a high Lord's handsome bastard. She would die if she knew. As if she was not disappointed enough. _She would see me now, and push me out a window if Father let her. _

"You should not worry about your dress. We are lucky to have been so close to shelter."

"I don't care about the dress. I have a hundred more. Not just in green." She gave a disheartened laugh. She looked up at him quickly, and saw a quick smile on his lips.

"You thought that perhaps, it was the only colour I owned?" She answered for him.

"I was beginning to wonder." He was silent for a moment, and she could hear the sound of hard rain and ice hitting hard on the roof of the cave, sloshing onto the ground. There were single drops falling from the ceiling into small pools.

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

"My _mother _told me that I would wear nothing but green while I was hear." She shook her head. "I have nothing against the colour, I just wonder why she needed keep with a tradition that no one understands or cares about in Westeros. Or perhaps she just wanted to draw attention to me."

"A tradition?" Jon asked. She explained the nature of it quickly as she waved a hand.

"You seem to get on with your father very well. The way you speak about your mother though-"

"She sound's like a bad dream? You can say it. The way I describe her is truthful, you'd never see the cruelty behind those warm eyes on your own."

"We have that in common. Lady Stark has never been a mother to me. Not ever." He shared this with her, taking the time to watch how she would accept this gift.

His attempt at comfort was pushed aside. She did not want o hear, she wanted to be heard.

"It wasn't always like this." She began, throwing her hands into her skirts. They disappeared into the fabric, as it puffed up all around her, water stopping the exit of air from within. "She loved me once."_ A thousand years ago... _

"There was a time when she braided my hair _herself_, and we would stay up late together and laugh. I feel like I haven't seen her laugh in such a long time." How else could those lines in her face get there? "She taught me everything I know. She bread me for perfection. We spent every moment together."She spoke softly, but her face read of confusion, as she looked towards Jon, but past him.

"I remember once." She smiled at the thought before it left her lips, and she focused on Jon. He smiled back, which made her smile more. "We were on my bed, laughing so hard that I couldn't breath. She put her hand on my cheek," she said, placing her right hand to the side of her face. "And said that I was her favourite... I know that mothers shouldn't say that to one child and not the other, and perhaps she told each of her children separately, making us all feel special. As though we all had a special place in her heart." Her smile began to dwindle like a flame, extinguished with the wind that wafted trough her fingers when she dropped her hand. She lowered her head for a moment, only to look back up and Jon Snow. She had hoped for a strength in his eyes, that she could no longer draw from herself.

He didn't smile any longer. His eyebrows knit together, and he seemed as interested as ever.

"I was thirteen when she told me that. Then one year went by," She waved her hand in a circular, as if it would help her explain how time passed, "And another, and another." Her fingers curled into a claw. "She stopped speaking to me more and more with every passing year. I thought that_ I _was doing something wrong. So, I was better, I didn't spill anything at supper, I ate and slept and _breathed_ when I was told, and did every single thing I was told, but it still wasn't enough. She hated me more and more until finally, she stopped talking to me at all, unless the subject of getting married came up. In that regard, she had no choice."

"That sounds cruel." Jon said finally.

"Do you want to know the worst part?" She asked, but he did not respond, he simply watched her watch him. "I hate her so much. I hate her, and still I would lay in bed _every single_ night and pray for..._Something_..." She saved herself. "_Something_ to happen, and she would come into my room and stroke my hair like she used to. Or at least, smile again."

She could see Jon had licked his lips quickly and bit down on his bottom one for a moment. "You don't know why." He said, quickly. She looked at him sadly, "I can relate. Lady Stark has wished me dead as long as I can remember, sometimes behind my back, and others, right to my face. She never loved me. She never counted herself as my mother, and I never took her as one. Though, I wanted her to love me once. I would see my brothers and sisters cry when they were frightened, or wince in pain when they were hurt, and there she was. It seemed like she could fix anything that ever went wrong with them."

Ev̱gení̱s smiled, she could recall a time when he mother and father could solve all her problems. Those days were precious and few. Problems seemed impossible now, or only solved within herself. Childhood was a kingdom, where eventually, everyone had to leave, armed with that knowledge.

"She could." Ev̱gení̱s told him. "She _really_ could." She spoke of Jon's siblings, but thought of herself.

"I know why Lady Stark hates me." He began again, looking to the ground. "But you? You and your mother were tied together for so long. What changed?" He lifted his head once more to look at her.

Ev̱gení̱s did not answer right away. Poor Jon Snow, he thought that she was struggling with answers. When it was just the opposite.

"I suppose, she wanted a return on her investment." She said bitterly as she rose from the ground. Being angry made most things better. If she was angered, she could not be so sad.

He rose faster than she, and moved slowly towards her. "I don't understand."

_I've said too much. _She looked at him and shook her head. "There's nothing to understand. She loved me once, and now she doesn't. She worked hard on me, and was disappointed. Here I am twenty-three names days later, unmarried."

He winced and got closer. "That's not it. I know it isn't. You make it seem like you're putting the pieces together, but you're missing too many."

There it was again, too smart. Perhaps his hand was wrong. Someday, it will kill him, or make him mad. She was about to open her mouth to answer, when something rang louder than any noise.

Silence.

The rain had ceased. Ev̱gení̱s looked to her right, and light had now come through the opening, and the visible puddles were still.

Slowly, she turned her head to face Jon, as though a sudden move would alert him, and prompt his question once more. She looked up to meet his eyes with such caution.

"I want to go back to Winterfell." She said finally. She wanted it to sound like a demand, but it came out more of a feeble suggestion.

His hands were at his sides now, they looked useless and tired as his shoulders slumped. He looked to the outside, unimpressed. "They'll be wondering where we got to." He moved his eyes back to her. "And you're father will be worried."

Before she could say anything, he took in a deep breath and moved to the exit. "I haven't forgot you know." She winced as she bend over to pick up his cloak. She rung it out quickly and ran to duck out of the cave, rolling her eyes as she left and stood up straight once more.

"Curiosity could get you killed Jon Snow. As it has killed many before you." She warned.

"I may not be armed, but I doubt _you_ could kill _me._" He said cockily still walking ahead.

"Not _me." She admitted. _Watching him ahead, made her want to be by his side. As she ran, mud flew up the back of her dress like a small whip. _I could not possibly get any more wet. _She thought as more water filled her boots. "Here, your cloak."

He did not move to take it, and though frustrated, she knew that he was offended too. Perhaps what he had shared had value to him. Something that he told very few or none at all._ I told him something valuable too. _She thought stubbornly. She took in a deep breath and swallowed her pride.

"Why does it matter so much to you, why she hates me?" She asked gently. "Why can we not simply have something in common? Both our mother's hate us."

"Lady Stark is not my mother." He said flatly.

"Yes, but you wished she was." She tried him. "Wouldn't you have preferred it that way. To share a name with your brothers and sisters. She hates you for something that you could not control..." She ended her sentence with less passion that it started with, thinking of how the truth of it fit her situation, same as his.

"I don't want the Stark name." He said, flatly again. Ev̱gení̱s' stomach sank for him. She knew what it was to want something you could not have. Replacing wishes with hatred to conceal the pain.

"I'm going to be a man of the Night's Watch. You don't need a name for that. You don't need anything."

She blinked hard, and winced. "The Night's Watch?" _She repeated. But he said that was some terrible nightmare at the end of the frozen, horrible North. _He had told her of this _house_ the night of the feast, and she had passed it over, only now recalling the slight fondness in his voice. "The men who take no lands, no wives, and no father no children?" She caught herself before she hissed her few final words.

"The Night's Watch, yes. I want to be a ranger, protect the realm."

"But you won't be able to Father any sons." She argued, though she was not naive enough to assume her questions could sway a long rooted dream.

"You act as though that's something I should want." He laughed out his breath.

She sped up as quickly as she could to get to his side once more. "Isn't it?" She asked, intrigued.

"What's my name?" Ev̱gení̱s scrunched up her nose.

"You name? Jon."

"Hmm, and whats my last name?" He asked again.

"Snow."

"I have a bastards name, and they would carry it with them wherever they went. That's no life for a child."

Ev̱gení̱s was surprised. She didn't think men thought in such a way. She had heard the tales of Lord Eddard Stark's great honour, though she could have never believed him to be such a father, to teach his son's all his virtue. She thought him stupid, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought him brave. A queer sort of bravery that she knew she would never have.

_He wants to be a ranger, _she remembered. She wanted to be outraged, but now, knowing his reasons, she pitied him.

"We are all bound by circumstance." Were the only words she could think to say. Were they so different? Only in their means. She had the high born name. A name might have been all he needed in this world to abandon any notion of the Night's Watch. He of course, had the gift of life, within him. A gift that he would squander. Father told her once that people always desired what they could not have. They were made to crave the opposite. Inside the cave they seemed to have had the world in common, and now it fell to the ground and shattered like thinly blown glass.

_This might have be his dream_. Like it had once been hers to marry and have children. She knew her dream was not an impressive one, she had always known.

"My Septa told me something once. It was such a long time ago, I'm sure I'm saying it wrong." She showed a small closed mouth smile. "She said that when we're born, the gods give us a gift. Every person has one, and no one has none." She looked to him and saw that he was genuinely listening, watching her in between carefully placed steps.

"What do you think mine is?" He asked, his mood lifting.

"You? Oh that's easy Jon Snow. You're very brave. I could see it in your hand as if the gods has written it there themselves. Arya has it too. Sansa has her beauty-"

"And Theon?" He interrupted.

She took in a deep breath and thought for a moment, holding her breath. After holding it for a time, she let it out and looked to him with a bewildered face. "I was wrong, some people don't have anything after all."

Jon laughed loudly, with his eyes closed. He threw his head back for a moment, and Ev̱gení̱s could not help but laugh as well.

"My Lady!"

Slowly, their laughter faded as they looked ahead. On a tall back horse, sat Sir Nermol, his face mangled with displeasure. If this was how he looked, Father would look much worse.

"Your Lord Father is most unhappy child." He dismounted and grabbed the weathered reins. "We had best get you to Winterfell before nightfall. It's a miracle we found you at all in this wood."

"We're not lost Sir Nermol. We were going back to Winterfell, when it began to rain-"

"You had best save the story for your Father Ev̱gení̱s. You will need it I assure you." The smile fell from her face. This was serious, and Father was not pleased. She glanced at Jon quickly before she began to walk. The smile had fallen from his face too.

She moved through the mud with great difficulty and once she was in range, Sir Nermol grabbed hold of her arm and aided her. He hoisted her onto his horse and his saddle, she felt like such a food riding sideways, like a peasant woman being led on a donkey, staring into nothing but more trees. He pulled the reins and turned the beast around quickly, though not so quick that she could miss his meeting of eyes with Jon.

Ev̱gení̱s was no fool, Sir Nermol's unkind glare was not his own, but Fathers. They had already decided what might have happened here, and she would need to think on what she would say very carefully before they reached Winterfell.

**Hi all! I hope that everyone is enjoying the story, please review. Every time I start a new story I gage how many reviews I get, if there aren't a lot, I tend to think not a lot of people are interested. **

**Let me know how you're liking it! Thank you to everyone who posted reviews so far! **

**Cheers, **

**-Prosati **


	9. Jon: Wet and Torn

Winterfell was not much further, Jon knew this by the shape of the trees, and the lay of the earth. They had never been lost to begin with. He walked behind Ev̱gení̱s' horse more than a few steps. He did not want to upset the Knight that held her reins. He had seemed angered enough by the look he had given him. Ev̱gení̱s was starring at nothing, her face tight with what might have been fear or deep thought. _She's thinking of what to tell her Father._

The gates seemed to open slower than when they had left for the hunt, and he looked ahead at Ev̱gení̱s again. She began to move her hands through her hair but it would do no good. Curls like that would not be tamed by the likes of small frozen fingers. He liked the way she tossed and patted it down, and the way it would not stay despite her best efforts. Walking next to her in the wood, he recalled the way she moved. Her short legs almost reached her belly as she pulled them from the mud with every step.

They both looked like they had been rolling in the dirt and water, slathered with mud from the knees down, and drenched with water everywhere else. This would not be easy to explain. Ev̱gení̱s got down from her horse and pushed open the doors herself, eager to speak her mind.

It seemed like everyone had been waiting. Lady Stark sat at the head of the table, Robb and Theon on either side. The Queen's imp brother stood with the King, and Father speaking in whispers, while Lord Kyría stopped in mid pace. His hands fell to his sides and he marched towards his daughter with burning eyes.

Jon wanted to leap in front of her, explain everything, but he found his throat growing tight. He stood tall and stiff as Ev̱gení̱s moved towards him instead. "Father!" She called in alarm, perhaps knowing something that Jon did not.

He strode past her like she were a ghost and began to raise his voice, his lungs filled the room, as powerful as any herald in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Who in the Seven Hells do you think you are boy?!" Ev̱gení̱s pulled his arm, but he ripped it from her hand with great force. She closed her fists, and clumsily lost her footing.

"Father!" She called.

"You think you can just run away with a high born Lady, _my _daughter!" Jon was stunned, unable to grasp his accusation. He jumped down his throat again, "I should cut your throat, What do you have to say to that? Eh, bastard?!"

Jon's face went from discomfort to anger, his eyebrows knit together, and his fists clenched strong.

"Father!" Ev̱gení̱s called the final time, her voice just as loud and booming as her fathers, maybe more. He turned to face her, unmoved by her words. He looked down and noticed Jon's cloak hung about her shoulders. He grabbed at the clasp with one hand and ripped at it hard. Ev̱gení̱s was moved forward by the force, but did not lose her footing, closing her eyes without a crease in her lids. The evidence against them seemed impossible to deny. As she opened them again, her father threw the cloak at Jon with force and began to advance.

"Tizian!" Father reasoned. "This can easily be resolved. My son would never do such a thing. This is a grave misunderstanding."

"It's true!" Ev̱gení̱s yelled again without waiting for anyone else to interject, not fully recovered from the cloak being ripped from her shoulders. "Jon Snow saved me. I wanted to go walking in the woods because my legs were in pain from the ride. He wandered with me at my request, and when the rain came down we had to find a shelter. If not for his knowledge of the land, I might have caught cold, or worse!" She was still raising her voice.

"It might still be that you catch cold my dear." Lady Stark rose from her seat and floated over to them. She grabbed a hold of Ev̱gení̱s dress and felt it in her hand. "This is heavy with water. You need to get out of this immediately." She ran her hands through Ev̱gení̱s hair, but her fingers got caught in the untidy curls. "This will not do."

Jon watched as his brother Robb looked on with some kind of worry, and Theon Greyjoy held back a laugh. Ev̱gení̱s was embarrassed by her appearance, he wanted to tell her that she didn't look terrible.

"Please father," She started again, breaking free Lady Stark's fingers from her hair. "If you must be cross, be it with me. Jon did nothing wrong. He saved us both."

Lady Stark did not say a word about it, nor did she looked upon Jon. Her face remained stone cold, as she moved her eyes to Lord Kyría, and Lord Stark.

Her father was facing her now, his initial anger and blood gone from his face. He looked like himself again. "Ev̱gení̱s, you should know better than to wander into an unfamiliar wood of any kind. Especially one such as that." He pointed to the wall in the direction where the wood would have been, his hands, ever animated. "It was foolish, and you will be punished." He finished, not wanting to air his family matters now. He stared at her for another moment, then quickly, he grabbed her in his arms and held her tightly. _Finally, for someone who seemed to be so worried, it certainly took him a while to embrace her. _

He turned to face Jon then, and watched him with the same judgmental eyes. "Was that the way of it boy?" _Boy? That was the second time he had called me that. _Jon would have rather pushed the old man aside and left for his chambers.

Yes." He said simply.

"There now. No harm's been done." The King spoke for the first time. He seemed uninterested in the entire issue. "Ned, dinner. I want one of my boars." He waddled away quickly and signaled for Father to follow.

"Lord Kyría, please, join us." Father asked him, while he continued to look at Jon. _What is he looking for? _Jon could feel the blood rushing to his head, and he could not decide what was worse, being called _bastard, _or being wrongly accused of something so dishonorable.

"Yes. Of course, My Lord." He said absently, his eyes slowly falling off of Jon and onto Ev̱gení̱s. He kissed her forehead once, and placed his hand on her head before letting out a deep breath of relief.

Once her father walked away, she looked to Jon instantly. She begged forgiveness with her black almond eyes. " Come with me Ev̱gení̱s, we will get you cleaned up." Lady Stark interrupted their gaze as if he did not exist. A signal that Winterfell was back to normal.

"Yes my Lady." She said softly, watching as Lady Stark walked ahead. Jon did not look, but he could hear her shoes hitting the ground. The sound faded as she gained distance.

Ev̱gení̱s took a step towards Jon and took up his hand in hers before he could even wonder what was happening. "I am so sorry. This is all my fault." She spoke low and quickly, knowing that Lady Stark awaited only steps away. "My Father did not mean what he said. He was worried, and all fathers say things they do not mean sometimes. Tomorrow, when the wound is not so fresh, he will seek you out and thank you for saving me. I know it." Jon did not believe it.

"Ev̱gení̱s. Come child." Lady Stark called again, and Jon wished he could curse at her. _Ev̱gení̱s was speaking to me now, be silent!_

"Forgive me._" _She said softly, letting go of his hand as she walked with haste towards Lady Stark. She looked back once more upon arriving at her side.

He let out a breath of air and watched her go, mud trailing from the back of her dress.

Robb and Theon sat up then, leaving the table empty

"What did they say while we were missing?" Jon asked while they approached.

"Nothing important. It was just a lot of panic really. Lord Kyría seemed...Upset." Robb's voice answered, but a diplomatic voice came out.

"Aye. He wouldn't stop yelling and cursing. Must have called you a bastard at least fifty times, eh Robb?" Theon's ridiculous smile faded when Robb looked at him. _Theon always did love a good insult at someone else's expense. _Jon was not thrilled, he wanted to throw a punch at him, but all that would do is get him into more trouble.

Robb's face was hard, staring at Theon, apparently amazed by his stupidity. It never amazed Jon. Robb tapped his brothers shoulder with his hand, "Come on. Get cleaned up. We can talk at supper." His hand slid off his shoulder and landed back at his side as he strode away in the same direction as Lady Stark and Ev̱gení̱s.

He watched them leave, remaining in the same place he'd been all along. Was he so hungry that he would face everyone again? Even if he did go, it would be uncomfortable. Those who saw what happened would be remembering it, and those who weren't would be wanting answers. If Ev̱gení̱s did come, he would not be permitted to sit near her. Supper was becoming less and less desirable.

He took a few steps in the same direction of everyone else, "A moment Jon Snow." Jon stopped in his tracks, he did not need to wonder who had called him. He turned around and searched for him.

"I thought I was alone."

"I've been lurking in the shadows, as ever." The imp waddled towards him with a particularly thick book in his right hand. He had only spoken to Tyrion Lannister once before. It was right before he had met Ev̱gení̱s._ 'Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not_,' were his words.

"What do you want?" He asked, not rudely.

"Me? Some good Dornish Wine, and a whore to warm my bed. And you?"

Jon did not have time for his riddles, "I don't want anything. I'm wet and tired." He looked to his right again, towards the empty hallway.

"I didn't really _need_ to ask you." He said, his eyebrows rising and falling. "You've been looking in that direction since she left."

Jon winced and looked at him right away. His neck bending downwards to look him in the eye. _Was I?_

"I can't blame you of course, she's a beautiful girl." He was speaking quicker, and Jon was not pleased by the way the conversation was going.

"I'll ask you again, what do you want?" He had an anger in his voice now that he did not have before.

He smiled smugly with his mouth closed as though his anger meant nothing to him. "What now Snow? She'll be gone by this time next week." His voice sounded sad, and he looked down the hallway, and shrugged his tiny shoulders. _Is he mocking me? _ "What kind of future do you have with her? Where would it go?" His words were simple, but they stewed within him.

"Something to think about. I shall see you at supper." He turned his heel and began to move in the direction of Father, King Robert, and Lord Kyría before him.

Jon watched as the tiny Lannister disappeared behind the stone wall. He turned to his right, to the hallway Ev̱gení̱s had left from. _Am I being a fool? Wanting to see her at supper, sit by her side... _

What _was_ this going to become? _Nothing._ Where would it go?_ Nowhere. _The answers were so clear. He thought of the way her father had looked at him, how quick to judge he was. _No one would have accused Robb of such a thing. _

Jon was not a high Lord, or even a knight, he was a high Lord's bastard, which was the same as saying he was _nothing_.

_I'm insulting my own pride, and still, I am getting ahead of myself. _He had no way of knowing if she even felt the same. Even if she did, it did not matter. For all the desperation her family might have felt to marry her off would not be enough to indulge such a match. She wasn't _that_ old, and she wasn't ugly.

Besides everything else, he was meant for the Night's Watch_. I'm going to be a ranger. It's my destiny._ Logic was everywhere to be seen and yet the frail sounds of hope refused to die. _She may be there at supper. She may sit close. She might smile at me. _

Jon shook his head and rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes. Letting out a breath of air, he began to walk to his chambers.

He filled his plates, and did not eat a bite, his mind preoccupied. Whispers were everywhere, pulling at his hair and clothes, though he did not stir. He starred straight ahead and leaned on his elbows, his shoulders hunched.

He sat beside Robb, who was still able to smile and eat. He caught him several times watching him from the corner of his eye, hoping that his beloved brother would smile, or joke as he normally would. Theon seemed to have forgotten the events that unfolded completely, drinking, and eating his fill. He laughed more generously than usual, and Jon wondered if it was on purpose.

Jon looked along the tables for a glimpse of lush green fabric. He shook his head once he caught himself. _Just eat and go to bed._ He kept his head down, starring at his plate full with meat pie and turnip salad. Untouched, he pushed it away, and glanced around once more. _I'm not looking for her, I'm just looking around. _He lied to himself now, and he knew it.

The room seemed to move through him, as though he were not there. Did everyone despise him as much as Lady Stark did tonight? How much of what they knew was true? _It doesn't matter what they think. _Tonight, more than any other night, the ghosts of Winterfell rested, and let him take their place. No one was better at it than Jon, he could be a phantom even when he was being all that he could.

He could defeat Robb with the sword, though he was not a better archer than Theon, even on his best day. Jon was a black star, shining as bright as he could, though no one would ever see. _Ev̱gení̱s might have seen me. She said I was brave, she could tell that I was good with a sword. _

His plate was cleared away, and soon he starred at the scratch Arya had made with her sewing blade, she said it was a wolf, but Jon told her it looked more like a squirrel. There were other scratches across the table, most of them unintentional, and the longer he looked, the more things he could see appear in the lines.

"Ev̱gení̱s has invited the Queen and Princess Myrcella and I to her chambers tomorrow afternoon." Jon's hearing became better with the mention of her name. Sansa sat at the very end of the table, near Arya and Jeyne Poole.

"Why would she want to see you?" Arya mocked her sister.

"I was talking to Jeyne," Sansa said snobbishly. Ignoring Arya, she looked back to Jeyne, "I went to her chambers before supper and asked if she wanted to sit with me. She said that she couldn't make it to supper, exhausted from the hunt, I imagine." Jon's heart sank. "But, she said she had brought some bitter Myrish tea, and that she would tell us our fortunes!"

Sansa's words were loud and dripping with excitement, but Jon could not have been more disappointed. _She's not coming. Is that bad? Yes, of course it is. I'll be a man of the Night's Watch in a short time. These distractions are not welcome. _

He stood up from the table and marched to the hallway exit.

"Jon?" Robb called after him, but he did not turn to reply.

**Hi all, sorry it took so long, I've been diving into Jon's character, trying to make it perfect and true to hm. Its soooo much harder than it seems! I promise. **

**Thanks to everyone for the reviews! It's very encouraging!**

** As always, please continue to review, I write according to how many people read/review. When there aren't a lot of reviews, I tend to slow down.**

**Cheers!**


	10. Jon: The Secret

He placed his hand on the hard wood of Ev̱gení̱s' door and rested his forehead upon it. He was winded from the run and from his anger and confusion. He scratched his nails against the wood and felt the finish curl under his fingernails.

_This is not right. I should not be here. _He moved his head and hand off of the door quickly, as though it had offended him. He took in another breath and knocked before he could convince himself to leave.

For a second, he thought to run and hide before her handmaiden answered the door. _They will answer the door and tell her father that I had been here. _He backed away, he did not know what he should do.

Slowly, the door opened just a crack. Nothing but darkness poured out. Darkness, and a tiny black iris.

"Jon Snow?" She said as she swung open the door with concern on her face.

He blinked and let out a breath of air in relief. "Ev̱gení̱s." Was all he said. No sooner had he let the air out, did he take it back in, and held it.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" She whispered loudly, her face still worried. She had more colour in her cheeks now then she did in the wood, Jon noticed.

"May I speak with you?" He said in haste, careful to keep his voice down.

She stared for a moment, searching his eyes. When suddenly, she grabbed his forearm and looked to the left and right of the hallway. She pulled him in and Jon could see that he was wrong about her room, it was not dark, but dimly lit by one candle in the farthest corner of her chamber.

When she closed the door she looked to the ground, shyly. "I sleep with the light on sometimes."

Jon looked back at the candle, and scrunched his face. He did not even think to judge her for the light. "Were you asleep? Did I wake you? I should never have come, I should leave you to your rest."

She watched him walk back towards the door in a fit of confusion. "I had only just lay down my head and-" She stopped in mid sentence and shook her head, "Wait, anything that would make you come here, on the very evening that my father threatened to kill you, must be important. I pray you speak your mind."

Jon turned around, she was wearing her night clothes, a lush red silk that seemed to glow against her olive skin. She crossed her arms and played with a ring set upon her right hand, ineffectively trying to hide her large breasts.

_It was stupid to have come here. What should I say to her? That I am to be a man of the Night's Watch, and she is a distraction? It sounds ridiculous in my head, arrogant and foolish. It will sound even worse if I say it aloud._

"You're not wearing green." Was all he could think to say.

"No." She smiled, looking down quickly at her garb, "I was _permitted _to wear other colours in my own leisure time. Red is my favourite..." She finished awkwardly, trailing off into silence. The candle in the corner of the room flickered, and he could see the light reflect against her glossy black eyes. She looked towards it, but he continued to stare. Her hair hung long, past the small of her back, wavy, loose and brushed out. He remembered how curly it could be when she left with Lady Stark, and how smooth and shiny it was the night they met.

"I'm not coming to supper. I'm sorry if that's why you came." She spoke plainly, "I just wanted a hot bath and a soft bed."

The idea set his mind a blaze, her dress falling to her ankles, and her naked body stepping into a steaming tub of water...

" Ev̱gení̱s." He said urgently stepping forward. "I wanted to talk to you about the cave."

"My father needs to cool his wits. He will be alright on the morrow." She placed her hand on his bicep and rubbed it.

"No, it's not that."

"If you are still searching for a secret, you are chasing nothing-"

"I'm not, I didn't come here to probe you further." He interrupted.

_Then why did you come?_ Her eyes asked him, tilting her head and squinting.

He stepped forward again and became closer to her than he had ever been before. She had faint freckles high on her cheeks that he had not noticed before. She gaped at him, but did not move.

He moved forward again, as though he was not in control. Moving closer to her face, he began to close his eyes. This was what he wanted all along. It seemed that all was well, and he did his best to gauge her response. Was that what all men did? Or did they just act? _She is not pulling away..._

He could feel her breath against his own mouth, soft and warm. Her scent was comely, sweet with honeysuckle.

Suddenly, she tensed her shoulders, and pulled her lips away. _So close. Did I do something wrong?_

"_No." _She whispered, winded. She seemed to be fighting the urge, which might have been terrible, had Jon not recognized that if she was fighting, she wanted it too. "You're going to be a man of the Night's Watch." She shook her head, and placed her hands on his chest feebly.

He placed his hands on her upper arms lightly, and spoke as low and gently as he could. "I thought it was what I wanted, but perhaps, I belong-"

"No." She repeated, more urgently. She broke away from him. _I've done something wrong, _he now knew. His eyebrows knit together tightly, and he wanted to ask why.

She pushed her hair away from her face, and wrapped her fingers around her silky garb. "This cannot be. You should be a ranger for the Night's Watch as you wanted, and I... Will marry a Lord somewhere, someday. This will go nowhere, and you would not be happy."

_She lies to spare my feelings. She pretends that I would be happier without her. That I would be better off. She doesn't want me, and she never did. _He thought, sure that he had misread her all along. _I am such a fool, I should not have come. She does not want to be with me. What was I thinking!? What was my plan!? To be with her, destroy her honour and mine? It would not end in happiness. How could it? She could never be with a bastard. I am too far beneath her._

He took a step back, wounded. It took all he had not to grasp at his chest. He bit his bottom lip quickly and stared at the ground. "I'm sorry if I offended you. This was a stupid idea, and I should have known better." He turned his heel quickly and moved towards her door, wrapping his hands around the dull metal handle.

She took a step forward, breathing in as though she wanted to speak, though nothing came out, and when Jon looked towards her one last time, she looked to her left into nothingness, refusing to meet his gaze.

He took in one final breath and opened the door, letting it close behind him.

When he got to his chambers, he slammed his door with ferocity, and threw himself on his bed, staring straight ahead. _What a fool I am._ _No, not a fool, a bastard, fool._

He wanted to fall asleep, to make the night disappear, and make it feel like more of a nightmare than a living, breathing, evening gone wrong. His heart was beating fast, too fast to allow for sleep, and though he did not draw the covers, he was still too warm in his own skin.

The day had started with such promise. He smiled when he saw her approaching, and his head spun when he thought she wanted to walk with _him_ in the woods. It was a fateful day, one that Jon could have never seen coming_. Does a man ever really know when a day will take a turn for better or worse? Every day always seems like a normal one at the start. _

Even now, he remembered her hair heavy with water, and her freckles just under her eyes. Her smell and her warmth, ached within his head, and he wanted to swat them away like so many mosquitoes.

He rubbed his face with his hands violently, then continued to stare at the deep dark red cloth above his canopy bed. It was not the same colour as Ev̱gení̱s' garb, but it reminded him of her just the same.

Perhaps it was time to hate her. That was how Jon liked to numb the pain of things he could not have._ If I could hate her now, then I suppose I did not like her much to begin with? Can you hate a person until you do not want them anymore, the same way you can hate a thing?_ Jon thought of how he once wanted Lady Stark to love him. To hug him in the night when he was afraid, or rock him back and forth when he was hurt. He learned to dislike her, and it made it easier. Was this the same?

He could not conceal his lack of surprise. Deep inside, he had known this had been a possibility. Tyrion Lannister had even seen it, and warned him. He ignored his instincts, and it came back to bite him worse than any Northern wind.

Knock

Knock

Jon lifted his head and threw it back down onto his bed roughly, ignoring the disturbance. For a moment, the thought he would run to his candles, blow them all out and jump back into bed. Who ever it was might open the door, but he did not want to talk.

Knock

Knock

He took in a deep breath of annoyance. _Its Robb, I know it is, Robb always knocks twice. _

Knock

Knock

Knock

The knocks seemed more urgent, but that only irritated him further. "Go away Robb! I'm... Asleep." He lied with distain.

He could hear the sound of the door opening, and light footsteps sliding through. Jon winced and ground his teeth. _I'll kill him._

He rose from his back and raised his voice, "I thought I told you-" only to let it die as he saw her tiny red body enter the room. He froze, resting on his hands, reclined.

Jon stared as she nervously fidgeted with her ring again. _Is she really here? Did I fall asleep after all? _

He thrusted himself up off of his bed, and stood some feet before her. She did not meet his eyes, while she bit the skin of her bottom lip. "I thought you were Robb." Jon closed his eyes and rolled them beneath closed lids, repelled by his own comment.

"I know what you must be thinking," She began, removing her ring and placing it back on her finger repeatedly._ I don't even know what I'm thinking. "_Its not what it seems."

Jon winced bemusedly. _What's not?_

She seemed to be trapped in her thoughts, not bothering to aid him in his confusion. "The night of the feast," She began, and he understood what she was doing. She swallowed, and Jon knew she was uncomfortable beyond belief. "I couldn't go back in. There wasn't any point to it. _'Why should I?'_ I asked myself. Only to suffer another humiliation?"

What she was getting at, Jon could not tell. He knew she was struggling, and he knew she was going to tell him her secret, but he could not guess what she would say, despite his best efforts.

"Humiliation?" Was all he could say as he shook his head slowly.

She licked her lips and continued not to meet his gaze. He searched her face, as though he could find something there.

"There were so many whispers, so many jeers, I thought for a second that they might be directed at me, and I let my mind take me over. Even now, I'm not unsure that he knows..."

"Who knows what?" Jon pressed, it was now or never. _What could they possibly have to jeer at? _

"Theon." She blurted out, her voice wavering. _She might cry. _Her eyes were glossier than before, though he could not see any drops streaming down her cheek.

"I knew it had to do with him somehow." Jon began to raise his voice, and turn his head, the way his father used to do when he was angry. "Did he hurt you?" He asked urgently.

She closed her eyes and looked to the ground, holding her stomach. There were still no tears, but there was a struggle to keep them in. "No." She said, an odd smile creeping across her face, as though it were a joke.

Jon leaned forward, "He did. I know he did. You're lying to protect him. Or to protect me. Don't worry about that Ev̱gení̱s, I can't get in any more trouble than I'm in right now. If I beat the living breath out of Theon, I don't lose anything. Tomorrow, I'll still be the bastard son of Eddard Stark." He seethed.

She placed her hand onto the stone wall, as though the movement would stop her from vomiting. "If you think that I sent you from my chamber because you were a bastard, you are more a fool than Theon. You're wrong, you're just _so_ wrong."

Jon stood up very straight, weary of her confession, and ashamed of what he said.

"You're near tears, and you look like you're in pain. Someone hurt you-"

"No!" She yelled, her voice shaking, though he could see that she longed to sound authoritative. She shook her head.

"Well than what?!"

She still did not look at him as she wiped the wetness from her eyes with a quivering hand. Jon could see the black of her charcoal smeared into her finger tips and nails. "I worked my whole life to be a proper lady." She began, constantly removing the water from her lashes. "I know everything!" She said bitterly, turning to face him for the first time since she arrived. "I can be strong, I know I can, but if I have to look over my shoulder for all eternity, wondering what they are whispering about... I feel as though everyone knows!" She ended loudly, throwing her hands in the air. "Everyone but you." She laughed shortly and reluctantly.

Jon looked at her with sympathy in his heart for her unknown trouble, he wanted to run towards her, hold her, console her. Her eyes remained on him, looking not at him, but through him. As though she could see what he was thinking, or if he was judging her.

She took in a long drawn out breath, her chest heaving deeply. "I've never said it to anyone before."

Jon continued to stare at her with confusion building behind his black eyes. _What could she possibly have to hide? What in the seven hells could trouble her so deeply?_

"Renly was the last of many suitors." She averted her eyes once more, losing her courage with every new word she spoke. Jon could see how sad she looked, her high sharp cheekbones were so defined as the shadows traveled over them. Though sorrowful, she still looked so striking. "I was almost married so many times." She shook her head. "I passed every single test, everything they asked of me could be theres. Everything that was in my power..."

Her lip trembled, and she threw her hands onto her face, weeping openly. Jon could not blink before he was at her side. He grabbed her hands gently, they were cold, but soft, and he pulled them from her face. The memory of how they met fluttered into his head. _'I do not think I belong,' _she said. He thought she was a pretty idiot in that moment. That her lack of belonging was rooted in some trivial reason. _What else could there be? _Upon first glance, she looked perfect. As he held his grip on her wrists, and watched the tears trickle down her face, he knew that he was wrong. There was something the matter, and it was not trivial.

"Ev̱gení̱s." He consoled her, still ever confused, but determined to make her end the tears. "It's fine. Renly is not the only noble in Westeros. You will find someone to marry you." _I would. _Others might have found ugliness in her red face, he knew, but not him. "You're still young, and beautiful." He was proud that he managed to say it. _Now she knows I think she's beautiful_. "Any man would be lucky-"

"Lucky?!" She interrupted, now meeting his gaze with a look of angry bewilderment. "If a man wishes to marry me, he had best not be in need of any heirs!" She finished, trying to pull her hands away, but he held his grip firmly.

Jon winced, and shook his head, "I don't understand."

"Must I spat it out!?" She yelled at him now, tears ceased. He felt a tightness in his throat. He wanted to be embarrassed, but he could not break free of his perplexity. _Am I missing something? Did she say it already?_

Watching him, her shoulders eventually slumped. She looked so at home in her defeat, that Jon imagined that she had known disappointment many times before. She slowly wriggled free of his hands, and he let her go without a struggle. She lowered her head, shamefaced. "I don't bleed... I never have, and I never will." She said, with such calm that he might have forgotten her red, swollen eyes.

He blinked hard, and studied her for a moment, thinking on what she had said. Suddenly, Jon understood what she meant, and why she wanted to keep this secret. He leaned in close, staring at her from the top of his eyes. "There's still time." He said with such certainty in his voice. _Does she? _Jon had no idea when it was the right time for moon blood to appear.

"I've had three and twenty names days." She said urgently. "My time is up. I've been poked and prodded once a week since I was eighteen, and my sisters have already had theirs... Once the truth gets out that I cannot bare children, I will be ruined. No one will have me." He beheld her face and body. Jon had always imagined a barren woman to look weak and sickly, but Ev̱gení̱s had none of those traits. Voluptuously full of breast and hip, she seemed bountiful. Fruitful. _Perhaps those things are not what determines a woman's power to breed._

"Only a man without honour would not have you for that purpose." He said assuredly.

"Is that so? Is it dishonourable to want and need sons and daughters?"

"No." Jon answered quickly, without thinking. He thought for a moment longer, grasping her upper arms, and rubbing them once over. He thought hard on his response. "But you could be as loving at any wife. Maybe more." He watched as her chest stopped heaving. She was holding her breath.

The tips of their shoes were past one another, and their legs were touching. "I meant what I said before, you are young and beautiful."

Jon did not want to think this time. He didn't feel like giving her a chance to run or turn him away. Quickly, he pushed his lips forcefully onto hers. He moved with haste, wincing, and feeling every inch of her mouth. When he felt her moving too, he grew faster still, raising his hands from her arms to the back of her head, running them through her hair. He could feel the hairs standing on the back of her neck, so he opened his eyes to watch, and it only inflamed his passion more. She reached for his chest and dug her nails into the boiled leather of his doublet. He closed his eyes reluctantly, as though closing them would make the moment disappear. It didn't however, it made it sweeter, without his sight he could better feel his urges. Suddenly, he wanted to stop. He wanted to see her face, and take in how she was enjoying it. He pulled away, and held his hands firm on the sides of her neck.

She breathed heavily, and her breasts rose and fell with every inhale. He wanted to run his hands along her body, and feel every curve she had. He could still feel her soft lips on his, as the cold air hit the little moisture she had left behind. She placed her hands on his wrists and stood on her highest toes and smashed her lips back onto his. _She wants it as much as me... _Jon liked the way she had_ taken_ what she pleased.

He had a sudden thought, and massaged his way through her mouth to meet her tongue. It was soft and wet, and warm, and he wanted more. While they remained entangled, he moved her against the heavy wooden door, allowing himself to better lean down to reach her. He moved his hands to either side of her, his nails digging into the door. He moved to the side of her face, and slowly to her jaw and neck. She let out a faint moan and the noise made him wild with desire. He took in a hard deep breath through his nose and sucked at her neck. She whimpered, which made him savage enough to lick and bite at her flesh.

"Jon, wait." She said suddenly. He hated the word, and wanted to continue.

"Yes." He lifted his face from her neck reluctantly and stared into her eyes as his chest heaved. "Is something wrong?" He asked, brushing her jaw with his knuckles.

"No, nothing is wrong." She spoke softly as a lullaby. He moved closer to her lips once more, tired of waiting, he couldn't get enough. She placed her fingertips to his mouth, and smiled baring her teeth. Jon liked to see her smile at something he did. "I want you to keep going."

"So do I-" He moved forward again, if not for her finger tips, they would be speaking into each others mouths. She did not let him pass.

"We can't. Not tonight." She pleaded. "My handmaidens will check my chamber soon. My father will have asked them to."

Jon let out a breath of air and winced, leaning his forehead onto hers. "I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either. It's taking everything I have to leave."

He barely listened, lifting his forehead and staring at her from the top of his eyes, forlorn. "When can I see you again?"

"Tomorrow." She said quickly. His heart rose knowing that he would see her again,but it sank, knowing that it would take until tomorrow. It seemed much too far away.

"Tomorrow afternoon, I will be with Sansa and the Queen. We should wait for nightfall. There will be another feast in the King's honour. We could slip away, and no one would know."

Jon smiled, enjoying how quick she was. "I know where I can take you."

"Good." She did not bother to ask where, but he did not mind. "Tomorrow then." She said with her eyes closed, as unhappy to let him go as he was.

She went on her toes once more and kissed his lips sweetly. Jon didn't move as much as he could have. He wanted to feel how sweet she was. When she pulled away, he leaned forward to keep it going as long as he could. Once she broke away, she opened the door and Jon grabbed her hand once more. _So soft..._

"Can you go back alone? _Wait..._ "How did you find my chambers?"_ Not that I care, or even mind... _He smiled.

"Robb helped me find it." His smile changed into a straight line immediately. "Good night." She breathed from her tiny lips, her last words for the evening. He watched as she hurried away, behind a stone wall and out of sight.

"Good night." He spoke to no one, softly, and when he closed the door he knew that he needed to speak with Robb on the morn.

**Hi all!**

**This is a long one! I hope you enjoyed! I've been slaving away like crazy to update. The next chapter might take a bit longer, but the good thing to know is that I know where it's heading. No worries. **

**Review as always, and let me know whats up. **

**Thanks for reading, you guys are so awesome!**

**-Prosati **


	11. Jon: The Heart Tree

The morning came and went, and Jon moved through the training yard for the second time that day like a ghost. Flying past each man with a sword and axe as though he did not exist. The sun had been up for hours and despite his best efforts, Robb was no where to be found. He wanted to be thinking of Ev̱gení̱s, but his mind always reached an end, and fell into Robb; where he was, and what he knew.

'_Robb helped me find it.' _Those words, rang through his head as often as the Winterfell Sunday bells. He was not afraid that Robb would betray him, he never would, but something turned his stomach. He did not like the thought of someone knowing, other than him and Ev̱gení̱s. Father told him once that _'secrets breed fear'_ and he was right. Jon had always been good at keeping secrets, but they always made him uneasy. It would not do to lie to Robb if he knew anything, and the smallest part of him was relieved that he might know. For if he knew, Jon would have another person on his side. Someone who might have better ideas than him on how to keep it. There was no one he trusted more in the world than Robb.

The yard was full, Jon could even see the Prince, Jamie Lannister and their entourage on the other side, but no Robb. He had searched Winterfell twice, and his hope was that they had simply been missing each other, had dwindled. The words, _have you seen Robb? _Were beginning to sound like a different language.

_There is only one more place he could be. _Jon laced his cloak tighter around his neck, and began to walk to the mud crusted gate. Once he reached the field, and began to tread up the hill, the wind bit hard at every inch of exposed skin. Winter was coming, and though there was only a light dusting of snow, the air was more bitter than if there had been a great blizzard. The sun was shining high and blindingly bright, but it was only a tease, and did nothing for warmth.

_I should bring an extra cloak for __Ev̱gení̱s tonight. It will only get colder. _Jon almost smiled at the thought of her wearing_ his _cloak_. _Jon's memories of the previous night burned in his mind, and distracted him from the whips of the wind. Her secret helped him to understand her timidity. It was not a trifle like he had assumed, and though he was sure she hated herself for it, he could not have wanted to kiss her more. She was a woman, with impossible problems, and despite herself, she continued to tread. Jon did not care that she could not have children, it was something that high born Lords needed much more than him. He had never desired to make a child with the last name _Snow._

He grew tired once he reached the top of the hill, and small tears streaked across his cheeks from the cold. He had not slept well, tossing and turning from his vivid dreams. Even now, the thought of her kiss made his trousers tight, and he could not shake the stiffness. He thought once or twice that he should be ashamed about thinking of her the way he _so_ wanted to. He wondered if she would be upset that he thought those things, or if she'd be embarrassed or hurt. Jon had no idea what girls assumed men thought about, but he knew that some of them would not be pleased at what they heard.

He bit his lip hard as he got closer to the sacred ground, and strived with all his might to shake away what he thought was _wickedness_. As he reached the very top, he had to work his legs harder than ever. Years of climbing to the god's wood gave Jon the strength to make it up easily. He looked down and saw the Heart-tree Weirwood, white as bone. Beneath the hood of its blood red leaves kneeled his brother Robb. _Looks like the god's found him._

The closer Jon got the more he wondered if Robb could hear him disturbing the ground. Robb's cloak was spread out behind him as if he had gone into a walking-kneel. With his head down, he looked like Father.

"Are they helping?" Jon asked in a low voice, a small smile curling onto his lips.

He could hear him laugh, without having to see his face.

"Not really." Robb answered, standing back up but keeping his distance. He starred at Jon for a moment, biting his bottom lip to stop a smile.

Jon smirked and took in a deep breath, looking away. "I was looking for you all morning, I wanted to talk to you about-"

"You don't owe me any explanation." Robb interrupted. His voice was kind, as he continued to smile.

Jon looked back, and met his brother's eyes. They both began to chuckle. "They were only feelings until last night. You brought her to my chamber and that's where it became something else. I know you liked her..."

"Stop." Robb shook his head. "I thought, she was pretty, yes. I danced with her once, and we had some words. I was too slow. Good for you." Robb was humble, as he always was. He began to laugh again.

"What is it?" Jon asked walking closer.

"Nothing, it's nothing." Robb tried to stop, but he couldn't, he just kept staring at Jon with a laughter that wanted to explode.

"Shut up." Jon pushed his shoulder, but he did not lose his own smile. Robb might have been laughing at so many things. Ev̱gení̱s was a high born Lady, and her father disliked him._ I sure know how to pick them,_ "She's a high born Lady, I know it, but you have to believe me when I say it's more complicated than that,"

"Isn't it always?" Robb answered with the right words, but Jon could sense his sarcasm.

They began to tread back towards the castle, side by side. "I'm being serious now." Jon's face still looked to be in excellent spirits, but his voice did take a turn. "She's good for me. Better than me for certain, and we have things in common. Small things, but still, things... Do you understand?"

Robb licked his lips and he toned down his smile. "I understand." They both began to walk to towards Winterfell once again. "So, what exactly _happened_ last night?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. How did she find you?"

"She didn't." Robb, began to speak with his hands. Ev̱gení̱s did it too, and often, he was beginning to get used to it. She used her hands for everything she ever had to say, and she was much more animated than Robb. "I was coming up the stairs to find you, and there she was. You know how her room is near the stairs? I saw her peeking out from her door, and when I caught her, she jumped. I think I might have frightened her. I asked her what was wrong, she looked so upset, you see, and when she told me what had happened, she begged me to take her to your chambers. At first, I didn't want any part in it, I didn't want to damage her. But, she looked so sure, so helpless, I knew that she was fond of you. Once I knew that, I knew never to make another advance, I just took her to you."

"So, you know most everything then?" Jon said relieved.

"Not everything. I don't know what happened after I left. Did you?..." Robb began, but trailed off suggestively.

Jon pushed his brother harder than before. "No, nothing happened." _Though I wish it had. _"We kissed, that's all."

Robb's smile returned, but he did not pry. He wiped his face with his gloved right hand. "What about when you were in the woods. How did you manage to charm a jewel of Myr?"

Jon smiled at his brothers analogy. She was a jewel of sorts, with sparkling eyes and glossy hair. "It's what we said to each other I suppose. I told her about my life and troubles, and she told me hers. I gave her my cloak when it began to rain hard, and we ran for shelter in a nearby grotto. Together we made for good company. I was prying for her to tell me something-" He stopped himself before he gave too much away. It would be easy to tell a secret like that to Robb, he could trust him with his life, but for the sake of Ev̱gení̱s honour, he kept quiet.

"You told her about your_ troubles_? That sounds miserable." Robb's smile grew. "I should tell Theon. He'll be very surprised to hear that the way to a woman's heart is through sorrow."

Jon continued to smile, but he wanted to grimace at the mention of Theon's name. He wished he could tell Robb about how he offended her, but any mention of it would raise further questions.

Jon continued with his story, "That night, after we returned, I could not get her out of my head. I hoped that I would see her at the feast, but her absence seemed to stir something in me greater than her attendance ever could. After I left the hall I went to her chambers. I began to tell her how I felt, but before I finished, she told me to leave. What happened in between me leaving and her seeing you is a mystery I shall have to solve tonight."

"What could possibly cause her any kind of trouble, I wonder?" He said absently, sounding strangely like Jon when he had first met her, "I suppose we all have trouble from time to time." He reconciled. Robb began to nod, when quickly, he turned his head in curiosity. "Why do you suppose she isn't married yet?"

"No idea." Jon lied.

"It's very curious." Robb continued to wonder aloud.

Jon wanted to get off the subject as soon as possible. "Listen, I might need your help tonight. During the feast, we were planning on sneaking away for a while. If anything happens, or if we're needed, come and get me."

"Where are you going to take her?"

"I was going to take her to the wood again, but now that I think on it, it may be too far for comfort. If we had to hurry back, it would not be soon enough. Now, I plan to bring her down to the hot springs. I think she'd like that. She's always cold." She had mentioned the cold in the North a few times, but that was not what had given her away. He remembered the cold of her arms when he touched them, and the frozen tip of her nose when her lips brushed against his.

Robb nodded, and seemed to approve of the idea. "You really like her." It was not a question.

"Yes." Jon looked at his brother quickly before he looked straight ahead once wanted to tell him more, but he did not want it to be cumbersome.

"She's got a pretty name, and she's _very_ comely." Another statement, plain and true. Jon recognized his brothers efforts to compliment him.

Jon threw his caution to the wind. "Do you know when you see a girl, and she's pretty, but then after you hear her speak, she loses her appeal? Sometimes, you just get tired of looking at her?"

Robb gave a tiny laugh under his breath, "I suppose." _He has no idea what I'm talking about._

"I don't get bored of looking at her." He was proud of himself. It was a glorious way of saying that he was very fond of her, without sounding soft.

Winterfell was back in view and Robb continued to stare ahead. "I'm glad for you."

Jon smiled to thank him. "So, you want to tell me why you were out here?"

Robb looked at him quickly with puzzlement in his eyes.

"I can't remember the last time I saw you praying by the heart tree. Something must be troubling you." Jon laughed

Robb took in a deep breath. "Ah, yes, did you know that father has been asked to be Hand of the King?"

Jon blinked hard, but did not stop walking. "No, I didn't. Are you sure?"

"Yes. Mother told me this morning.

"Did he accept?"

"Yes. He will leave for King's Landing when the royal family departs." Jon took in a deep breath about to speak when Robb beat him to it. "You know that she'll be leaving too, once the King leaves..."

Jon knew that his brother was being gentle, but he still wanted to scream. It seemed that everyone wanted to remind him of that. Could no one let me be happy?

"I know." He snapped, but immediately regretted it. He did not apologize, but he soothed the blow. "I know," He repeated releasing a breath of air, "I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I suppose we'll talk about it tonight." Jon had no intention of bringing up reality with her. Tonight, was for all sorts of other things...

Jon walked along with his brother in silence for some time, while a severe thought plagued him. Ev̱gení̱s could not get pregnant, and therefore, could not bare the child of a man who did not care to share his name. What she saw as a defect, he viewed as a glorious positive. He knew it was selfish, but he could not help but believe that the gods had a hand to play. That it was them who devised this plan, and brought them together. It was him who should be praying at the heart-tree, not Robb.

Now, matters would only be made worse with his father's departure. Not but a day ago Jon was sure that he would join his uncle as a man of the Night's Watch, and now, here he stood, whispering to his brother about a girl that had changed everything he had ever known.

"And the Night's Watch?" Robb continued to shorten Jon's patience. He knew his brother would never intentionally hurt him. Robb only asked because they were real questions that needed real answers. "There was never a man so apt for a ranger."

"Perhaps, I was too hasty to think about joining the Night's Watch." Jon spoke too quickly for his brain to catch up. He wanted Robb to let him be, to have Ev̱gení̱s in his arms, and the sun to set. "I have a plan for tonight." Jon changed the subject quickly.

**Hi all, **

**Short chapter I know. Just thought I'd release it early and keep you busy. A little treat for waiting so patiently for the next one (The next one will be as long as the usual chapters).**

**I showed it to a few people who really enjoyed the back and forth between Jon and Robb. **

**I hope you enjoyed! As always, review, review, review. **

**Cheers!**


	12. Evgenís: The Springs

**Just wanted to ask everyone to keep in mind that this story is written as a combination story of the show and the books. Though, if I had to choose, I'd say it is closer to the books. Keep in mind, that as we move forward, there may be spoilers along the way. It is also important to keep in mind that this story has been, and will continue to be told over time. M****uch like the show and the books, n**ot everything is written within days of each other. Some chapters are, and others aren't. Just be mindful of that. Enjoy!

Ev̱gení̱s' hair hung glossy and straight, while many thin braids laced their fingers together behind her night and day had been a blur. She felt as though she had slept better than she ever had. Every position she laid in, or moved in that morning was a dream.

She thought of Jon while she took in her visitors. Each cup she read was just another step to being rid of each of them and seeing him. She could almost feel his taste on her lips, and the warmth that came from his body. She had to choose whether she wanted to dwell on her moments with Jon, or her wicked dreams. Naughty dreams had always plagued her, and that night, she woke to find her hand between her legs, shaking. She had never felt the delicious sensation before, but she liked it.

The best part of all her feelings was that they were real, and so was he. He was somewhere in Winterfell as she breathed, and moved and passed her time, and he was thinking about her in the same way. She felt a strong comfort in that.

_Requited love is such a marvelous joy. _She had not told Jon that she loved him. She could not even be sure if she did. _This has to be it. I've never felt quite like this before. _Her heart could not stop beating, and with every breath she drew the sun closer to its place beneath the white frosted hills. Even Winterfell itself seemed more beautiful, and the climate more fair. When the fever of affection took residence in her body, she was glad for the brisk air.

As she read through Sansa's cup, she felt the need to banish any ill tidings. It was not important. Nothing was. Not more important than the burning desire she had crawling beneath her skin.

She replayed the evening and especially her confession in her mind every second. Jon swatted away her greatest obstacle like a horse fly. It was not the reaction she had always imagined. She imagined anger, disappointment, and even violence. She could picture him storming off, offended. In her mind, the entire room would be set in blood from a heavy red curtain blocking the window. To her relief, there was red, but it was in her cheeks, and in the candles that burned around the room, lighting their faces dimly with excitement and warmth.

She longed for him more as the Queen, Princess, and Sansa left her dwellings. She ran to her looking glass and viewed herself as she spoke to someone who was not there. It seemed so involuntary, but she continued to speak to _him_, and laugh coquettishly. She smiled and imagined Jon knocking at her door at any moment. Ready to take her by the hand and bring her somewhere, anywhere.

Once the sun had gone, her heart beat would not stop. Her maidens washed and groomed her well for her next feast at Winterfell. She had them dab a new lavender scent behind both ears, her wrists, and just above her sex. She did not like the scent after all, but men never noticed those types of things, and as long as she smelled sweet, it did not matter. More braids were added to her hair than before, and she felt like a Dothraki Queen.

She didn't take her eyes off the colour of her gown as they laced it up. _Green again. _She thought bitterly, but it did not matter, Jon would not care what colour she wore. _His only concern will be getting out of the hall._ This gown was lush and vibrant, and compared to the grey and brown sea of Winterfell, she would most certainly draw attention. It was different from all the others she had brought. From Quarth, it exposed her neck and the top of her shoulders, scooping upwards like horns on the tops of her arms. To finish, she wore a large pearl from the sea of Mry. It was snug inside a small silver cage that linked around the precious stone, and hung on a simple silk string.

_If I slipped out once, I can do it again, _she comforted herself.

Entering the doors for the feast was just as it was the first time. Some eyes looked up, both men and women alike, it was more likely that they were admiring her unique dress. Most of them had probably never seen anything like it before.

Seeing Jon from across the room made her heart stop. His fingers were intertwined, and he leaned on his elbows on the table before him, Robb sat to his right. _I shall have to thank Robb again for helping me to Jon's chambers. Since, we have not yet been found out, I should also thank him for his discretion._ She wanted to wonder what it might be like to have a sibling who one might confide everything to, having never been close with her sisters. Jon did not look away from her, and he smirked deliciously. She could not help but smile back, though she turned her eyes away. She did not want to give herself away to the crowd of hungry eyes. Playing her elusive game was fun, and perhaps later, he would show her if he had liked it.

"Ev̱gení̱s here!" Cried Sansa, not far from her. She looked to her immediate right and sat beside her. Sansa was buzzing with all of the interesting things Ev̱gení̱s had found in her cup that day. Ev̱gení̱s could not get a word in, but it did not matter. As long as she could think of Jon, and glance his way every so often, she was happy.

"...And it said I would be married to a lion! Didn't it Ev̱gení̱s?" Sansa squealed to her friend, a girl who Sansa had mentioned before to be Jeyne Poole.

"Yes, Sansa." Ev̱gení̱s answered dutifully. It was a small lion that had appeared in the grinds. Ev̱gení̱s could still remember the look of disgust on the Princess' face. She had not yet finished her serving, and Myrish tea was a bitter, sandy beverage.

"Shouldn't it be a stag?" Asked Jeyne with puzzlement on her face.

"Stag, lion. It doesn't matter Joffrey is both." Sansa smiled looking around the table for support. "Right Ev̱gení̱s?" She asked with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Who else could it be Sansa? Your father has already made the arrangements." Ev̱gení̱s tried to offer the girl some comfort.

The feast went by as quickly as the last, though it was not quite so troublesome. Theon Grey joy sat far from her, and once the food had been devoured and the music began to play, all order was stripped from the hall.

Ev̱gení̱s could see the fat King drinking, and balancing a serving wench on what little of his lap was not taken by his own belly. Lady Stark and the Queen conversed, and Sansa captivated all the girl's attention with her tales of her handsome Prince. Ev̱gení̱s looked over to see her father deep in conversation with Lord Tyrion and Lord Stark, and it was then that she knew the mood was set. Everything was just as it was the night she had slipped out the first time. She raised her eyes to look for Jon, but he had gone from his spot.

She felt a sudden tap on her shoulder and held her breath. _Could he be so foolish as to come straight to me and lead me out the door? _She kept composed and noticed that some of the girls gave her terrible looks, while others seemed forlorn. A table away, Princess Myrcella stared longingly. Ev̱gení̱s winced, very confused and turned her head to see no one but Robb Stark. Surprised, she looked up at him stupidly, understanding why the girls had been jealous. Robb Stark was no doubt an excellent catch in the frozen North. Any girl, even a Princess, would have been glad to capture his attention. She could recall a time when she had arrived, when he seemed easy to spot in a large crowd, with his handsome face and striking blue eyes,

Ev̱gení̱s had an idea of what was transpiring, but she knew not to speak about it in front of so many onlookers. "Can I help you my Lord?" She asked sweetly, wanting to mislead the prying gazes everywhere. She did not wish to call him by his first name, and show everyone that they were on a casual basis.

"Would you honour me with a dance Ev̱gení̱s?" _Clever man, s_he thought as she rose without hesitation. She looked to her dinner companions and asked politely. "Ladies, will you excuse me?" No one answered, but Sansa.

"Of course." She smiled happily, while the others seemed to say nothing but sigh hopelessly.

They made their way to the floor when Robb spoke first, "I apologize again, for scaring you last night." He said, taking her waist to begin the dance.

"No apology necessary. A small price to pay, for a chance to see your brother." She smiled. Robb smiled without showing any teeth. "I assume this is all a part of the plan."

"Yes." He said flatly. "We'll dance long enough to bore them, and once they all go back to their conversations and gossip, I will see that you meet up with Jon." Ev̱gení̱s' heart beat fast at the sound of his name.

"That may take a long time." She commented. "There's not a girl in this room who wouldn't want you to choose them for a partner. I'm afraid I may get my eyes clawed out."

Robb let out one laugh, and licked his lips to a close. "They'll get bored eventually. I promise. I'm no great dancer, I'm sure to disappoint. All you need to do it put up with me until then."

Ev̱gení̱s laughed, perhaps more than she should, a strong act would assure everyone that she has no intention of spending the night with _anyone else. _"I don't think it's your dancing, they're panting over. Once I leave, you'll have your choice of the room."

"I suppose." He agreed politely.

"Did you speak to Jon today?" She asked after a small silence.

"Yes. He told me _most_ everything." _A very clever man, this Robb Stark is, one slip of the tongue and Jon might have been in trouble with that one. _

"_Most _everything?" She could not help but tease.

Robb shook his head lightly, "I only meant that I know what's going on. Rest assured, your secret is safe with me." For a moment, she wondered if Jon had told him her secret. She did not know whether to panic or be relieved. "Jon likes you very much, and I will have no part in telling anyone about the two of you." She released a breath of calm. _He knows nothing. _One person knowing a secret was more than enough for her.

They danced several other sets, before her feet began to hurt. With every new dance, a dozen eyes looked away in boredom. Lady Stark, a notable viewer, had even turned her attention back to the Queen.

"It's finally working." She smiled.

"I knew it would. Now, we'll slow down, and I'll pretend to speak to you by the hall's archway." They stopped slowly, and bowed to one another.

"You're not _so_ bad a dancer." She said kindly. He had stepped on her gown once, and forgot many of the steps, but he was as light on his feet as any Lord might be.

She leaned against the cold stone wall and saw nothing but darkness on the other side. She could see everyone's eyes getting bored of them, even though they were alone in a corner. "Pretend to speak to me," Robb said staring at her.

"I _am_ speaking to you." She smiled.

"Yes, I suppose we are." He extended his neck to look at the crowd. The light caught his blue eyes, and concern shone through them. "Go ahead. Jon will be waiting on the other side."

"In the dark?" Ev̱gení̱s looked towards the black hallway. It seemed that the great hall had the only light in the castle.

"Don't be afraid Jon is there. He's waiting." Robb looked back to meet her eyes. His face was trustworthy, and kind.

"Thank you. I am in your debt." She said as sweetly as she could, grabbing his forearm and squeezing. "Now go and have your pick of all the lovely girls. Every one is still dying to catch your eye." She complimented him, baring her teeth in a smile.

Quickly, she threw herself into the darkness, knowing that Robb watched her disappear. She watched as even her outstretched hands disappeared into the shadows.

"Jon?" She called timidly. She knew he would be there, but she still feared when he would appear, and if she would look silly when he eventually scared her. She winced hard, and began to notice that there was a faint light source behind a wall some feet away. As she drew herself closer with her hand guiding her against the wall, she could see it burning brighter. When she turned around the wall, she saw a torch, bright and tall being held by the man she had wanted to see all day. "Jon!" She squealed happily, running towards him.

"Ev̱gení̱s!" He said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I thought that you might not come."

She got on the tips of her toes, and still had a hard time reaching him. "Are you joking? I thought of nothing else all day."

"So did I." He spoke lower than before as he lowed her lips to kiss her softly. "Do you want to try something?" He did as he pleased without her answer, and took her hand in his. She smiled at the gesture. "Come this way. I have something to show you."

Ev̱gení̱s heart fluttered and she followed him with their fingers laced. "Where are you taking me?" She asked with excitement.

"It's a surprise." He answered, guiding the way. It felt as though they were walking for a long time when they finally arrived. Ev̱gení̱s could feel the heat rising from her chest to neck. She could swear that she could feel the humid air of a summer rain in Myr.

Jon let go of her hand and hung a torch on the wall. Ev̱gení̱s took a moment to tear her eyes off away from Jon, and to take in her surroundings. She took in a deep breath, now knowing why the air was harder to breathe.

"You have hot springs in Winterfell?" She asked surprised.

"Of course. Why do you think it's so warm in the castle?"

_You call this warm? _Her manners took hold of her thoughts once more. She had never really noticed whether or not Winterfell itself was warm. "It feels so nice." She said, taking in another breath and closing her eyes. This time, she did not think of home when she closed her eyes. She wanted to be there more than anything in the world. She could see in the far corner of the large cave-like chamber that his dire wolf, Ghost, was laying down. The creature had barely stirred, and she had only just noticed him.

She walked closer to one of the large pools, and began to lift up her dress and take off her shoes and stalkings. "Will you do it too?'" She asked him.

She did not have to look up before he had seated himself next to her, and had his feet in the water. She continued to struggle with her stockings. "I hate these stupid things. I never had to wear them before in Myr."

"Really? I thought all girls wore them-" His voice trailed off when she exposed her bare leg.

"What's wrong?" She asked him sincerely.

"Do women shave in Myr?" He asked surprised.

She winced at first, but then smiled soon after. She remembered her Septa telling her many years ago, that most women in Westeros didn't need to shave their legs. "Yes. We all do. Sometimes we wear garments that go to our knees when the heat is unbearable." She removed her second stalking and threw it aside. "Do you want a better look?" She said flirtatiously. She wanted to touch the water, but first, she would throw her legs onto his lap.

He ran his hands over her calves, more than once, smiling all the while. "I guess the women here really have no need for shaving. They never wear anything higher than their ankles."

"Do you like it better this way?" She teased him further. He had not stopped touching them, since she laid them on his lap.

"I do." He continued to smile, and she could not help but laugh. He was as innocent as her perhaps, and yet, she wanted to play with him. She took her legs away and placed them into the water. Scolding at first, she held her breath and allowed her skin to get used to it.

She laid back onto the floor and let her legs dangle into the water. "Do you know what I miss most about Myr?" She said feeling her muscles relax.

"What?" He asked, looking down at her from his seated position.

"I miss walking with bare feet everywhere. If you walk without shoes in Winterfell you'll freeze. I miss leaving my home and walking straight onto the sandy ground."

"You can walk barefoot outside?" He laughed.

"I walk everywhere without shoes. I hate shoes." She confessed laughing while she said it. It sounded like a ridiculous comment.

"And what do you do, when you're not walking barefoot?" He asked sincerely, looking into her eyes. She sat up again and looked into the water.

"I read sometimes. Do you read?"

"Yes, I can."

She giggled, "Not, _can _you read._ Do you read?"_

He began to laugh at his own answer. "Not as often as you I'm sure. I like stories more than histories." He confessed.

"I must admit, I love them both. It's important to know where we came from. But, the stories..." She began to throw her legs into the air, splashing at nothing. "They have a special place in my heart.

It was silent for a moment when, she thought to look back to Jon. He had a smile that made her want to scream. It was sweet and inviting, and the longer she looked, the more she realized that he was studying her.

"I'd like to see you walking barefoot in Myr, with a silk gown that rises to your knees."

"Perhaps one day you'll come with me." She smiled at the thought, "We could wake up early and watch a large red sun bleed into the sky. I'd take you to the marketplace and show you fruits that you could only dream about. Fruits with horns, and fruits with hundreds of seeds that would turn your lips pink for hours. I could take you to see the wild Dothraki as they pass through the city, and the elaborate offerings we give to keep them from destroying us. Everyone should see a Dothraki Khalasar at least once." She knew that her passion was running away with her. She lowered her eyes and blushed.

"Your words are as pretty as your name." He complimented. "I'd go anywhere with you."

Jon put his hand onto hers. She could feel how much warmer he was. Goose pimples travelled all over her body, and made all her hairs stand on end. She suddenly got colder, and shivered so slightly that Jon did not notice.

"I've wanted to do this all day." He moved closer to her, so that their bodies were side by side. His hands made their way across her waist, and he pulled her towards him. He lifted her up clumsily until she sat a top his lap. Her feet flew out of the water and drops scattered across the floor. She let out a tiny peep, and Ghost lifted his head for a moment.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her nails slid and scratched along the boiled leather. She looked into his big dark eyes that seemed to mirror hers. The way he stared made her feel naked.

He moved slowly towards her lips, touching them softly at first. With every other meeting, he became more hungry. His tongue pushed through without regard, and began to explore her mouth. She could feel a tightness between her legs, and longing that she had felt the night before. All through the day she could feel a wetness in the middle of her thighs that would not waver. The burning only got stronger as he continued to run his hands along her body. She could feel the heat rising again, and her dress grew tight and bothersome. His kiss became more elusive as he pulled away only to watch as she could not help but rush to his mouth again. She could feel his smug smile beneath her kisses, and it only made her want him more. The heat was beginning to ache in all the right places now, and her heart was not excused. She thought that she might catch on fire, as the sweat began to make her skin shine in the candlelight. She had always been taught to avoid an open flame, not to touch it, but who would have thought that she would find one in the middle of the frozen terrible North of Westeros. She would burn to ash with him tonight. _What a lovely way to burn... _

It was then that she got a wicked thought. She pulled away from him slowly, wanting to do something else, but not wishing to break their kiss. Every time she pulled away, he pulled her closer, until he could not be ignored.

She fixed her hair, which was beginning to feel fuzzy. She lifted it into a large lose bun behind her head. It was hard to tie without pins. Jon panted still, and though happy, he seemed puzzled by her separation. She began to move off of him, gracelessly standing. To gain leverage, she pushed Jon down to his back. He leaned on his elbows and watched, bewildered as she stood up, her feet now almost dry.

"I forgot to ask you, what do you think of my dress?" She said, running her fingers coyly around her shoulders, and the fabric that looked like horns.

Jon did not hesitate. "It's sinful." He smirked, his chest barely finished heaving from their kiss.

"Sinful?" She repeated, feigning worry. "Well then perhaps," she began to turn, "You can help me remove it." She did not bother to see his face when she finished. Instead, she listened to the sound of his feet shuffling quickly from the ground to her back.

He placed his hands on her bare shoulders, and leaned his body close to hers. "Are you sure?" He sounded like a _real _nobleman. "If we love, wont it hurt you? You could bleed."

"I won't." She did not look at him, and she was not upset. He was caring and gentle, and he wanted her happiness before his own lusts. _A rare quality in a man._ "I've been poked and prodded my whole life...I don't have a maiden head." She sounded more sorrowful than she actually was. "Do it Jon. I want you too." She told him. She smiled at the thought that she was in control. No one would own her after tonight. For the first time, she would choose who would go between her legs.

Jon leaned forward and kissed the nape of her neck, and his thumb ran over where his lips had been. He began to unlace her dress, and she began to shiver. Once the final lace was done, she could feel the air on her back. She turned to face him, and began to undo his doublet. Jon had a small smirk on his face, and he watched her from the top of his eyes, which she had come to realize made her knees weak.

She had some difficulty with it, and he helped her. He walked towards the water and began to remove his trousers. While he undressed himself, her back was still turned. She shrugged off her dress and undid the front of her small clothes. She heard Jon getting into the spring, and knew that it was time.

She began to walk towards the water. Only his bare chest could be seen, and his build was slim but strong, like she imagined. He moved to the edge and placed his wet hands on the stones, looking up to her.

She licked her lips and began to pull her small clothes off. It caught all her curves as it fell, and landed on the ground around her ankles. She saw him take in a breath. The only thing that remained was her caged pearl necklace, hung right between her ample breasts. _My heart is beating so fast... _She could not help it any longer, mere seconds felt like ages, and she raised her hands to cover her breasts.

Jon looked as though he could breath her in, and while he looked up to see every inch of her, she could see his throat swallow hard.

"Are they stupid?" She asked looking at her feet.

"Stupid?" He asked bewildered, his trance broken.

"I always thought they were too big." She said, walking towards the water. She sat first in front of him, to get her legs submerged.

He closed his eyes and winced, seemingly offended. "Too big?" He said, as though the idea was preposterous. Once he was finished shaking his head, he placed his hands in hers and helped her get into the water as slow as he could.

She let out a cry or pain. The water was scalding, and she squeezed his fingers tight.

"It's alright." He pulled her close now with ease, as the water made them both weightless. She held onto his neck with no intention of ever letting go. She wanted to meet his eyes. This time, he really had seen her naked.

She nuzzled into his arms, and hugged him tight. He kissed her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. For the first time in Winterfell, her cold was truly cured.

"Do you want to try something else?" He asked for the second time that night.

"Yes." She said shyly, knowing what might be next. He took her hand and lowered it into the water. When she touched it, stiff and long, she could not believe what she was doing. Jon jumped, but looked to be enjoying everything she did. She slipped and rubbed his member with her hands, over and over again, until he began to moan deep into his throat. She smiled widely at her good work, while his eyes closed with satisfaction. She began to move faster when his hands seized hers. He looked at her for a moment, licked his lips quickly and pushed himself onto her. She did not know what he was doing, but her guess seemed too accurate to ignore. His shoulder slumped down into the water, and his hand ran over and over her swollen sex. Soon his fingers entered her slowly. It slipped in and out with ease, and she whimpered each time. She dug her claws into his back, and kissed him deeply. This time, her tongue could conquer his mouth. He seemed to enjoy it, by the way he moved his hand faster.

"I want you to put it in." She begged him finally, wondering if her cries would make him more aroused.

He stared at her for a moment, his hand now still. Quite suddenly, the water splashed as he began to lift her into his cock. He never stopped looking at her. It was as though he wanted to see her reaction.

He pushed it into her, and for a moment she could not believe that it would work. Once it was pushed all the way, they stared at each other for a moment. It went in to easily, so smoothly, that she knew it was right. They were made to do this. She let out a small whimper and ran her hands up his neck and into his hair. He liked it very much, as he slowly began to move her up and down with nothing but his hips and the lifting and falling of her thighs. It was slow and deep at first, as she got used to the rhythm, the pleasure got stronger. He could no longer hold in his lust, he kissed her deeply, biting and licking her lips with all the greed he could gather. His motions grew faster, as he began to lightly nip at her neck. The wolf in him was trying to escape. As he lowered his kiss to her chest, she managed to say his name. It was only a whisper, but he heard it just the same and allowed her to begin her own thrusting. He placed his free hand on her breast and massaged it in his hand, lowing his face to gnaw at her nipple.

Her whimpering got louder and it only made him want her more, as he continued to thrust in and out as fast as he could. She finally began to scream and Ghost howled to create his own echoes. Jon was taking her cries and increasing his speed. He pushed her up against a rock and moved in and out of her with so much ferocity he could have been part animal.

"I can't...anymore." He struggled to say. Ev̱gení̱s did not fully understand what he meant, so she ignored him and continued to hold him tight and allow him to push himself upon her.

He grew slower almost abruptly and this thrusts got choppy and clumsy. She realized now that he was climaxing, and she held him as tight in her arms as she could, running her hands through his hair as he groaned and growled. He acted more like a wild wolf than ever.

He buried his face in her collar bone and took in long deep breaths. She could feel that her hair was wet, though it had not touched the water.

She felt the sudden urge to say the words that plagued her mind all day. "I love you." She whispered.

Though still quivering, he lifted his head from her chest and took her face in his hands. "I love you too." His look was serious as he had ever been. She smiled at his sincerity, and placed her hands over his.

He kissed her deeply.

**Hey all!**

**I hope you guys were happy about this chapter. I know it took a little longer to come out, but I wanted to make it well worth it. **

**The next chapter may take some time as well. So hang in there! Thank you to all my supporters, and reviewers! **

**As always, please review, the more reviews I get, the faster I tend to write. **

**Cheers!**

**-Prosati **


	13. Evgenís: The Kraken

Ev̱gení̱s woke, fluttering her eyelashes. Quickly, she jolted up and looked about the space with swollen, morning eyes. All but a few torches had gone out and she could not tell how long she had been asleep. Though it was humid, she still felt a wet breeze, all over her naked body._ How long did I sleep?_

She laid down again and laid under Jon's arm, nuzzling her cheek into his chest. He began to stir and hold her tighter in his arms, his second hand rubbing her upper arm from shoulder to joint.

She lifted her neck and kissed him once before watching him wake. "We fell asleep." She whispered.

He chortled once deep into his chest. "_You_ fell asleep, I could have loved you all night." She smiled even wider than before. It could not be more perfect.

They were both completely naked, but the warm air of the springs kept them comfortable. She could hear the sound of water rippling and bubbling all night, and it soothed her greatly.

She could not describe the liberation she felt. She just knew that somehow, she had a better understanding of the world, and perhaps even of life. She was no longer a girl, but a woman grown. She felt confident in herself, despite that what she had done with him was not very religious._ It felt like I saw the gods,_ she smirked. She had done wrong, and yet, she felt entirely right. For once, her parents did nothing to orchestrate what happened to her body. She was in control of herself.

"I feel free." She said sitting up, and stretching her arms out.

"How?" He smiled, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees.

"I thought that there was honour in always doing what was proper, but it never seemed to help me much. I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

Jon stared at her for a long time and sat up with his legs outspread, his back against a flat black rock. He held out his arms and Ev̱gení̱s knew to crawl over lay her back against his chest. He held her tight, "I would never have guessed. You never looked like you were under pressure. Not for an instant. When I first saw you, coming down off your horse and speaking to Lady Stark. I thought, 'who _is _that girl?' So bright and green." He laughed and kissed her ear.

She sighed, "What are daughters if not pawns to be moved around the board by their fathers? Once they found out that I did not bleed, they took me out of play. I felt like I was under all the pressure in the world. Pressure to be more graceful, more beautiful. It was all for not. I was always nothing." She could hear the depressing words she said, and she knew that they sounded pathetic, but they were true, no matter how they sounded.

He leaned over so that she could see his eyes. He looked serious, as he took her shoulders in his hands. "You are not nothing. Not to me." He said as a matter of fact. The look in his eyes was stern, and she could not say another word to it.

He continued to stare until she nodded. He then leaned back once more and kissed her shoulder once.

"It may be morning you know." He mentioned.

"I could hear the music going on far beyond midnight. Everyone will be sleeping until noon." Ev̱gení̱s knew. "My father would not ever wake before noon if he could help it. He just has to."

It got quiet behind her, and Ev̱gení̱s wondered what he was doing. She turned around and saw that he was staring into the springs, with no explanation to behold. "What's wrong?" She asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He met her eyes once more, determined. "Run away with me?" He blurted finally. She could see that he was not joking. She held her breath, running the words through her head repeatedly. Until finally, she understood what he had asked.

"What?" She hoped that she sounded serious, but she could not hide the smile growing from ear to ear.

He sat up, as though moving closer might convince her, "We'll travel south, perhaps even to Essos someday. We wont be rich, but we'll have each other. In a few days, you'll have to leave, and I will not be able to see you ever again. Let's do as you said, and be free."

Ev̱gení̱s let out her breath of air. Logic had always appealed to her, but while she stared into Jon's purposeful eyes, she was amazed by how much sense he seemed to be making. _We should leave_. She was of no use to her family, an out of play pawn, and Jon was nothing but the bastard of Winterfell. She knew that he was strong, and honorable, and though they could have no children, they could belong to one another.

"Yes." Her lips spoke, but her brain had not caught up with her. "Yes. I'll go with you." She smiled larger than she ever thought she could._ I could take some money from father, he brought so much, and we have never wanted for anything in Myr. My family is so rich, they'd never miss even a small fortune. _

Jon bore his teeth and took her face in his hands, leaning his forehead against hers before kissing her. "I'm going to marry you." He promised. "We'll make it all right in the eyes of the gods, and I'll take care of you forever. I give you my word." He made the face that she had come to know to be distinctly Jon, tilting his head downwards and looking at her form the top of his eyes.

Ev̱gení̱s was so pleased that she wanted to cry. She had no idea such a treasure could be hidden inside the walls in Winterfell. It would be the scandal of sorts, but she did not care. _Mother will be furious. _She smiled wider.

"I want to marry you. Of course." She beamed. "We belong together, I know we do. We two, misfits." They could not tear themselves away from each other. Ev̱gení̱s chin was raw and red from the rubbing of the short hairs on Jon's chin, but she did not care to mention it. _I'll kiss him until I bleed._

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard echoing against the walls. As the noise grew louder, they looked at each other in terror. Ev̱gení̱s scurried to grab hold of her dress, covering her body, while Jon stood up and pulled on his trousers.

The source of the steps finally rounded the corner, as Robb stood in the doorway. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, but once he did, his eyes went quickly from Jon to Ev̱gení̱s. Speechless, she pulled her dress closer to her body and tensed up her shoulders. Ev̱gení̱s could see his fear, as he looked away, and stared at the floor in shame.

"Robb!" Jon screamed, and Ev̱gení̱s jumped. His brother looked to Jon with horror in his face. "What in the seven hells are you doing here?!" He yelled louder.

"I'm sorry!" Robb yelled back, "But you said to come get you only if it were necessary."

The lines on Jon's face vanished, as he stared at his brother, pale as bone. "What's happened? Are they looking for us?"

"No, the morning sun has only just reached it's high. The feast lasted all night, and everyone is likely still asleep."

Jon winced again, his eyebrows tight and his northern accent thick, "Then why have you come?"

"It's Bran." Robb, took in a deep breath and released it carefully. "Someone found him this morning, unconscious." Jon immediately began to grab the rest of his clothing, pulling it onto himself with haste. "He fell from the North Tower." Ev̱gení̱s could hear his voice begin to shake. He was afraid for his brother's life. Jon's silence, marked his own fear. "You must come, the castle will be in an uproar in a matter of minutes, and you must see Bran. Maester Luwin says he may die." Robb swallowed, the distress apparent all over his face.

Ev̱gení̱s put her hand over her mouth slowly and continued to look from Jon to Robb in dread. _Bran, the second youngest Stark, the one with freckles. I hope the child does not die, he has only begun to live._

"Of course, we're coming, now." Jon told him, as he fastened his leather belt. "Ev̱gení̱s, do you need help getting dressed?"

She wanted to say no, and let him go, but it would do no one any good if she could not lace her own gown, and had to walk back to her room half naked. "I need you to tie the laces, once you are done, I can find my own way back." She nodded.

He walked behind her and hoisted her up from her armpits. "I can try." He insisted. He grabbed for the dress, while his brother turned away into the doorway.

"I'll see you in Bran's chambers." Robb averted his eyes once more, and left. The sound of his footsteps could be heard echoing through the cave-like walls, loud at first, then fading as he moved further away.

She slipped on her dress quickly in silence, and allowed him to begin lacing her up. She could feel his hands shaking. "Jon." She said turning around to look at him. She took his face in her hands. "It's going to be alright. Brad is not going to die." She didn't know if it was true. She had seen the North tower of Winterfell, and it rose higher than the tallest of trees.

He did not answer, his eyes everywhere but at hers. She stood on her toes and kissed his lips gently. She was relieved to feel him kiss her back. When she got back onto her heels, he was looking at her once more. "Just lace up my dress, and run to his side." On the days where she was sad and lost, she longed for someone to tell her what to do. To make her feel like she was not the one who needed to be in control.

He nodded, and placed his hands on her neck kissing her forehead. He turned her around and began to lace her up once more. "Be careful." He warned, still feeling the need to care for her.

"I will be fine. I remember the way. You just focus on your family. Mine will be looking for me very soon." She spoke to him with her back turned. When she closed her eyes she could see the look on his face, deeply saddened. She hated the feeling of being happy one moment, and depressed the next. It always made her feel like such a fool, and she wondered if it were a feeling that everyone had known.

She could feel that the laces were loose and poorly knotted, but all she needed was to keep her dress up, not to tighten her figure.

When she was done, she could feel him moving past her, the warm wind blowing her hair slightly. He went up the first step and stopped suddenly, turning back around and running back to her.

He took her hands in his and kissed them both at once. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" It was enough that he even thought to ask once more. Even through his own anguish, he was still thinking of her.

"Yes." I'll be fine. Now go!" He smashed his lips onto her at once, and took in a deep breath through his nose. "I love you." He said quickly, running from her to the steps, and out of her sight.

"I love you too." She called after him.

Father stood in the doorway for a short time, his breaths deep and distressed. He had swollen, dark circles under his eyes, while he explained to her what she had already known. Taking long pauses in between, she could not tell if it was to soothe her or to ease the pain in his own headache. It was the first time they had spoken alone since the incident in the woods, where he had yelled at Jon. She was relieved that he had not make mention of it.

"We should go and pay our respects." He said standing up straight. Her heart was in knots, though she could not help but be proud of herself for misleading her father so well. He said himself once that she should take pride in being able to mislead a smart man. He had seemed to be oblivious about her absence at the feast and he did not even ask how her night had been. She did not know what she had expected. She worried foolishly that he would see something in her face or hear something in her voice that would alert him of her becoming a woman grown.

"Yes of course." She answered with a series of quick nods. "They must be in such pain, we must go at once." She wanted to have sweet daydreams, and think of Jon and the love they had made last night. However, she could not help but remember the pain he and his family were in. She hoped that she would be able to comfort him that night, while the rest of Winterfell slept. She had to hide her smiles with her hand, each time she thought of Jon.

"I'll wait for you outside." He said solemnly, as he turned to open the door. "Something less festive I think." He spoke of her choice of dress.

"Yes, father." She answered dutifully. She had never really spoken to Bran Stark, the two youngest Starks remained a mystery to her completely, and now, this boy would perhaps remain that way, forever.

_How wonderful this day had began. _She wondered if Jon had thought the same. Her maids brought out a more simple garb, the colour of well soaked spinach. She removed the elaborate broach at her throat, and handed it away. "Undo my braids. I want only one. Tight behind my head. Gather it all, I don't want any flying away." She could almost feel the colour draining from her morning, she had to use everything she had to hold back a smile, and now she knew that smiles were not only unwelcome, they were inappropriate to show before the Starks.

"Bring me the _Nazar a_t Once."She told her. Quickly, the maid parted through Ev̱gení̱s fine jewelry, and spotted the simple chain with the deep sapphire on the end. Set upon the stone shone a light blue eye with a golden iris. She handed it to Ev̱gení̱s, and she moved towards the door. _I cannot do much for them, but this will at least keep him safe. _

When they finished with her hair, she left the room and took her father's arm. "I have not seen them since I was informed of the boy's condition. You may see a great deal of tears, and perhaps even panic. Ever my daughter, I want you to remain calm and offer your help in any way you can." Ev̱gení̱s knew that she had already seen Robb and Jon, but perhaps Lady Stark would not take the news with as much strength as a man.

"I will father."

"Express to them how deeply sorry you are, and do not cry, though you may or may not wish to. You don't know them well enough to cry. It will look foolish, and forced. Be sincere, and kind. As you always are." Father liked to drone on when it came to serious matters. She simply nodded again, and grew less courageous as they approached the child's chambers. She knew Jon enough to weep for him if she needed to. She did not feel like crying now, but if she saw Jon shed a tear, however unlikely, she might become weak.

Ev̱gení̱s could hear the faint sound of stirring from outside the room. Once the doors opened, she held her breath. She would see Jon, and though it was time to be serious, she felt ashamed that she wanted to smile at him.

The heat from the room hit her hard, there were many people, and she knew each and every one. Standing at the foot of the bed, with their backs turned was Robb and Jon, she could not miss them. Nearer was Sansa and Arya, and what looked like the youngest Stark, Rickon. Beside the dying boy sat Lady Stark, haggard and distraught, while Lord Stark held a hand on her shoulder. Lord Stark, Jon and Robb turned to face her and father, while the rest continued to huddle close, the aching pain of a child lost was on their faces.

She knew Jon was looking, though she did not want to meet his eyes. The risk was too great. She would be strong, and stare at Lord and Lady Stark alone. She strode passed Jon and Robb quickly, and watched as her father bid his apologies. Her skin felt hot and tight as she continued to feel Jon's eyes on her. When it came time for her to speak, she knelt on the ground despite the dust and dirt left behind by shoes. Lady Stark, turned her head just enough to watch what Ev̱gení̱s was doing, though her face spoke nothing of care.

"My _deepest_ sympathies my Lord and Lady." She placed her hand on her heart, and made a claw as though she might rip it out. "I know that I am not your blood, and that you hardly know me, but believe me when I say that if you need anything, I am your humble servant." She finished, perfectly poised, and careful not to seem dramatic to her hosts.

Lady Stark looked back at Bran and Lord Stark nodded dutifully. Her words would not move them, of course. Ev̱gení̱s walked to the other side of the bed, moving past Sansa she placed a hand on her shoulder softly. She looked down at the boy, and remembered him. He was a beautiful child, with soft skin and long, brown eyelashes. Now, he was pale and his freckles stood out against the milk white skin of his face. She took in a deep breath and placed the_Nazar _on the child's bedpost.

She spoke softly as Lady Stark looked at it with puzzlement. "In my country, we say things like this happen because of the jealousy of others. Its called, _Oculus Malus._ Rest assured, that if someone wished this upon him, this will make him better, by all the power of the god's." She pointed to it and turned to walk away. They did not need to keep it if it frightened them, she had so many more at home, and it was doing no good hanging by the rest of her jewelry.

Father placed his hand on the back of her neck and massaged it as they moved out of the room again. She could feel Jon's eyes upon her again, and this time, she looked to meet him. He gave her a queer sort of smile, and he did not stop watching her, even as she reached the door.

She almost stopped completely when Theon Greyjoy opened the door for her and Father to step out. She had not heard or seen him come in, and his stare always made her uncomfortable. She did not bother to look at him, and looked instead to Jon quickly one last time.

Father spoke, "Since Winterfell has risen early, I shall beg an audience with the King. I have matters to discuss with him. Since Lord Stark is occupied, I shall settle for the King for now."

"Matters?" She asked curiously.

"Don't worry yourself. Go back to your chambers and read perhaps. Until things, get better. Can you make it back to your chambers alone?" He kissed her forehead.

"I think so. I'm beginning to understand the ins and outs of Winterfell more and more."

"I wouldn't hear of it." A voice called out from behind her. She closed her eyes and did not care to turn around. "A Lady should be accompanied always. I can show her to her room, Lord Kyría. If it please you." Theon Greyjoy stepped out from behind her and looked from Ev̱gení̱s to Father.

Ev̱gení̱s did not like him. She did not like his face, or his hair, or his clothes, or his voice. She tried to calm her temper, by engaging her curiosity._ What could he possibly want?_ She knew that she had always had a tendency to keep grudges, a habit that she loathed about herself, and inherited from her mother.

"I thank you Theon. What a kind gesture, eh Ev̱gení̱s?" Father smiled stupidly, and she wanted to scream at him for not knowing who he was beaming at.

"She's in good hands my Lord. I assure you. Enjoy your meeting, and give the King my regards." When Theon smiled, she could see a gap between every one of his teeth. What was more unsettling was the colorless mole he had just above the left side of his face. Ev̱gení̱s had moles, and beauty spots by the dozen, but they were all a deep dark brown, and none rose quite as high. Septa Senos used to say that moles without colour were a sign of weak blood.

"I shall see you at supper Ev̱gení̱s. Be sure to thank Theon when you get to your chambers." Father kissed her on the forehead once and set off to his meeting.

She did not move an inch, but her eyes travelled to Theon and studied him with no attempt to hide her discontent. He turned to look at her, and smiled ridiculously, lifting his chin proudly, as though he had won something without trying. She pursed her lips and strode past him, the back of her dress catching air as she glided by.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asked, but she had no intention of answering. As she gained her distance, she began to hear his footsteps moving quickly across the stone floors. She turned around quickly, ready to hit him if she needed to. "Whoa! Calm down! I just want to take you to your chambers!"

"And what would prompt such Lordly behavior? You don't like me, and I certainly don't like you. Best leave me be. I can find my own way. Thank you." She had_ almost _forgotten her courtesies.

"Wait, wait!" He raised his voice to conquer the new distance between them.

He stood in front of her and looked defeated, looking from left to right. She took in a deep breath and stared at him with bored eyes. "Look. I think we might have gotten off wrong." He was not smiling any longer, and he seemed genuine enough. "Perhaps we should start again."

Ev̱gení̱s was not entirely convinced, but the rational person in her had to heed his reasonable request.

She let out a large breath and looked at him directly in the eyes. "Very well." She said simply. She did not want to be confrontational, but the need to scorn him further, burned throughout her body. Quick tempers, and short patience were habits that plagued her family for generations. She was fighting her very nature. There was an old saying about Myrish people, and though it was in High Valyrian, the translation was clear as day._ We forgive with ease, but we forget with difficulty. _

It was easy enough to forgive Theon Greyjoy for his smirks, but it was not so much _what _he did, but _who he was_ that bothered her most.

"Why the sudden need to reconcile?" She stood up straight, unable to resist asking.

"Making enemies is what we Iron born do. It comes easy to us."

"We do not sow." She rehearsed the words her mother taught her. She knew an alarming amount about the noble houses in the West, her mother had taught her. Perhaps in the hopes that she might one day marry a Westerosi. She walked towards her chambers, as he followed beside her.

"I already told your father I would. Consider it a peace offering. Besides, you don't know Winterfell enough. You'd likely get lost. I remember my first days here, I couldn't find my way around for weeks." _Then perhaps you are not as smart as I._ She could do nothing but nod her head and give a queer smile.

The conversation became silent, and she hated any sort of quiet in a conversation. Father always said that a quieted conversation was the offspring of inept minds. She wanted to be with Jon, comforting him, and hearing what he had heard about Bran. She could hold his hand and kiss him, and tell him that everything would be alright. They might love again if he was interested, but she would be careful not to be insensitive.

She began to pull her ring on and off repeatedly, as she always did when she was uncomfortable. She could see her door in the distance and quickened her pace. "I'm here." She said simply. "Thank you for bringing me." It was all she could bring herself to say. She reached for the door handle and pulled it open, stepping inside. As she slipped inside the room, and began to close the door, a foot jammed into the way.

Confused, she looked up from his shoe, to his face quickly.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" He asked, his expression was as though it were the most obvious thing to do in the world. She did not know whether to laugh or be cross.

"Why would I do that?" She asked perplexed.

He smiled, shrugged his shoulders and looked left to right quickly. "I'm no fool. I know how girls like you work."

She stood up perfectly straight, and nodded. "Do you?" She leaned forward as if he were going to teach her a lesson that she very much wanted to learn.

"You act as though you're better than me, and you walk by smelling sweet and looking the way you do. I know you've been trying to get my attention."

Speechless, she let out a tiny peep of a laugh.

He stared, waiting for her to admit it, but as the silence stretched on, he became more like a child having a tantrum. "Don't deny it. You're a few years older than I, and I'm the heir to the Iron Islands. You're just a merchant's daughter, new to being a Lady-"

"I'm not _new_ to being a Lady. My house may not have a banner or words, but we've been a house for nearly eight generations. And I have more wealth in my family than your house has ever had or ever will, and we didn't have to pay the iron price for it either."

He seemed dumbfounded for a moment, until he began to be a fool once more. "Come now. I know you feel like you have a battle to win. Like you need to be a _strong woman_ and protect your virtues, but I don't buy into all that. A woman can do as she likes." He reached out his hand and stroked the side of her arm. "As can a man."

She moved her arm away and slapped him hard across the face. She held her breath, fingers sore. She had never slapped someone before. Quickly, she gathered her words. "How dare you! Don't you understand that I think you are repulsive! You are the last person on earth I could ever be compelled to lie with!"

He jumped forward and frightened her enough to have her back into her room. She pressed herself against her bedpost. "And that's how it is, is it?" He said marching towards her with haste. He placed his hand above her head and leaned in close enough to make her cross her eyes. His grip on the post, and the feel of his presence alerted her of his strength. "You think you're so perfect don't you? That day you came back from the woods, all wet and wild, you didn't look too special to me. I wonder how much your father would think of you if he knew you were a wolf's whore!" He seethed, his breath hot on her face.

She gasped, without knowing. _He knows about Jon and I? But how?! _Her mind began to race. She wanted Jon so badly, they needed to get away now.

"Ahh, you think no one knew did you?" He raised his eyebrows proudly, "How could I not notice? You walk around in your fancy dresses, acting like the Queen herself, and half way through the feast after you done dancing, you disappear. You don't have to be a Maester to figure it out." He sneered.

Ev̱gení̱s throat began to tighten, she did not know whether to be more afraid of what he knew, or of how close he was, and what he could do with all his strength.

"Tell me, did Robb take you like a bitch, or did you beg him for more on your back?" He spat.

Ev̱gení̱s blinked. _The fool. _His words cut through her like a twisted dagger, but she knew that he was wrong. He had fallen for the trap just as they had intended. _He thinks I'm with Robb, not Jon. What a complete and utter ass._

"Nothing to say now? About time, I like you better silent." He took his hand off the post and lowered it to his side. His posture was terrible as he leaned down to speak to her. "All I'm asking is that you show me the same courtesy as you showed Robb last night."

She did not move, nor did she answer him. If a stare could kill a man, he would have dropped dead.

He became irritated. _He is used to whores, who always do as he likes_. "Well go on then, show us your tits." Every word he said was made more vulgar by his crude language.

He threw his hands up in the air. "You realize I could tell Lord Stark and your father everything I know." He sounded less and less threatening as he went on.

_You know nothing at all you stupid Kraken!_

She stood up straight, and he smiled like a spoiled child who thought he had gotten his way. He moved forward and she stopped him with her hand hard against his chest.

"What are you doing now?" He asked exasperated. She had almost expected him to begin stamping his feet. _He must think me a very slow learner._

"Well, I have a secret of my own now." She moved close to his face now, entering his space, and breaking him down. "And I'll only keep it if you swear to keep away from me for as long as I have to be here."

He looked like he was the one who had trouble learning now. She stood an entire head shorter than him, but in that moment she could have towered over him. "If you even so much as think about touching me again, I'll tell Robb what happened here tonight. And he'll kill you for this." She knew that it was Jon who would kill him, but it did not matter, so long as the threat was good and dangerous.

His face grew harder still, and she could hear the sound of his teeth grinding together as he took in his breath deeply and carefully. "Get out." She seethed.

He looked at her with a hate in his eyes that could have rivaled hers, and a moment later, he moved out from her chamber door, swinging it open so hard that it smacked the stone wall loudly and came back to a close.

She backed against her bedside post once more, and stared at the closed door with eyes wide open.


	14. Jon : The Plan

The time he had spent in Bran's chamber was long and tiresome, and his heart ached in so many different ways. He spent every moment praying for his brother's recovery, but in between each word, there was room for _her_ face. Ev̱gení̱s' body, warm and wet and welcoming him inside of her. He knew that he had to be thinking of a time to get away. There was not much time left, and once the King departed, so would she.

He had made peace with the concept within himself, sure that this was what he wanted. Tonight he would go to her chambers and seek comfort in her arms. The sun had been gone for hours now, and he had said that he would retire for the evening. No one seemed to care other than Robb, who turned his head and nodded. _He knows where I'm headed. _

As he strode past Theon, he noticed the sour look on his face that matched the huffing he had been doing all day. It was beginning to irritate Lady Stark, and Jon would not be there when she decided to scold him for it. Theon's expression did not change as Jon opened the door, but he could feel Theon's eyes at the back of his head, watching, until he left.

The late hour could be marked by the quiet of the halls, and the sound of only his steps echoing against the walls. Winterfell was cold at this time of night, and bitter to anyone who left the warmth of their sheets. No one was awake now, no one but the Stark family.

He hoped that Ev̱gení̱s would be awake, as he moved quicker towards her chambers. He thought that if he missed her, only by a second, he would not likely sleep very easily that night. He liked the feel of a woman in his bed, someone warm, and soft, who he could talk to if he could not sleep.

He put his ear to her door and heard no sign of movement, the faint light under her door seemed warm and alluring. Like a moth, it called to him and he opened the door in one smooth motion.

His heart began to beat faster, as he saw her laying in bed, reading by candlelight. Her long dark hair hung loose over her exposed shoulders, revealed over an improperly tied nightgown. Her garb was white and simple, but she needed no other adornment. The smile on her face and the olive colour of her skin was all that she needed. She closed her book and sat up.

" Ev̱gení̱s" He breathed, closing the door quickly and striding towards her.

"Jon." She stirred. "I did not think you would come. Are you alright?" Her almond eyes were genuine, and he could see that she worried for him. She sat up and moved in front of him.

"I'm alright. Better now that I'm with you." He gave her a small smile. "Though I can't say the same for Bran."

"I have heard nothing, has he still not woken?" She asked, though she knew the answer.

He took in a deep breath, not breaking their gaze. His mouth tightened, "No."

She did not respond, clearly at a loss for words. It was Jon who needed her now, Bran Stark would live or die, but Jon would remain. "Will you stay with me tonight?" She asked shyly. Jon enjoyed her modesty greatly.

"Yes, if you'll let me."

She smiled the way he loved, inviting and excited. "Of course Jon. You need a woman's embrace tonight." He liked it when she said his name, however trivial it might have seemed.

She led him to the bed and sat him down on the edge. Kneeling, she began to remove his shoes. He wanted to tell her she did not need to, but he could not help but smile at her helpfulness, and she seemed all too pleased to be doing it. When she finished, she rose and walked around the bed to the other side. He removed his own trousers and small clothes before she could crawl behind him and begin to undo his doublet, wrapping her arms around him and undoing the tight laces. He reclined his head slightly, and let her work, he took a small kind of pleasure in allowing her to remove his clothes for him._ She smells so sweet._

"Do you think we'll be interrupted?" He asked, already beginning to relax.

"No. Father said he had to seek an audience with the King. Though he wanted your father. He did not visit me all day after we left your brother's chambers. He will not come now."

Ev̱gení̱s removed his doublet and undershirts, throwing them aside. Jon took in a deep breath and cracked his shoulders. "That sounds painful." She soothed, whispering into his ear. He could feel her soft hands kneading his flesh. No one had ever massaged his bones before, other than himself. It was heavenly. He closed his eyes and continued to breathe deep, while the heat of her body warmed him. "Are you alright Jon, truly?"

He opened his eyes and looked to his left so that he could be better heard. "Today was not an easy one. I worried about Bran every second, but I could not stop thinking about you. I felt ashamed at first..." He trailed off for a moment as she dug her thumbs into the spot that had plagued him all day. He rolled his eyes to the back of his head. "I just can't understand it. I mentioned it to Robb too, Bran has climbed that tower a thousand times. He never falls."

"Never?" She tested him. He knew that it might sound like a feeble excuse. The truth remained, he did fall.

"Almost never..." He responded one last time. His thoughts of Bran had plagued him all day, and his guilt for being with Ev̱gení̱s was beginning to annoy him.

"I'm afraid to admit it." She began leaning her head on his shoulder. "But I thought of you all day as well. I want your brother's health, and I prayed for it constantly. I want you to be happy. I want him to live and thrive, and this will be just a small thing that happened in years to come. But Jon, I could not close my eyes and bow my head without seeing your face. I'm even embarrassed to ask you now to make love to me. I don't want to be insensitive to your sorrow."

_Could she be more perfect? _Jon could not stand another second of not being inside of her. He adored how she cared for him, the way she whispered all the while to make him feel relaxed. He turned around and propped himself up on his knees, taking her face in his hands. "I've wanted nothing more all day." He kissed her once, sweetly. "Never be afraid to ask me to love you. I always want to." He kissed her deeply again and began to move to her jaw slowly.

She pulled away to lie down, and he could not help but throw himself onto her, climbing ungracefully. He sat up straight, a leg on either side of her hips and undid the sloppy bow of her night clothes. He slipped it easily off of her breasts, and slowly he edged backwards towards her calves, and slid it off her hips. He decided that he liked to see her sex best of all. He threw her nightgown away and mounted her once more.

He jumped back on top of her and began to kiss her neck and chest. "Want to try something?" He asked.

"Every time you ask me that I like the outcome." She smiled, and ran her fingers through his hair. He smiled while he kissed her and made his way down her body with his lips until he reached the space between her legs. She sat up abruptly, as though she might have been afraid, but Jon could not stop. He had gone too far, and had wanted to do it for so long.

He could feel his loins aching so urgently that he did not waste another moment. He kept his mouth at her sex for a long while until she began to tighten her firsts in his hair. She moaned once and he could hear the bed shake as she slammed her back hard against her pillows, falling backwards once more and arching her back. He moved his fingers around where his tongue had been until she began to join in, her hand taking his place. He liked that best of all. Seeing her, he rose back up and entered her easily, the moisture in between her thighs was more than enough.

They kissed over and over until it became sloppy. She would nibble at his lips from time to time and he would kiss her on the corners of her mouth and even the tip of her nose. There was no music to behold, but there was a rhythm to their movements that made them move together.

He pushed himself into her deeply, and she let out a louder cry than he had anticipated. She covered her own mouth and he could see a smile in her eyes. His body began to have a mind of its own, an animal wanting to rip out of his own skin. He removed himself from her reluctantly, and watched as she looked wicked with desire. Warm and wet, all he wanted was to be back inside of her. He turned her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips towards him slowly. Before he entered her, he kissed her neck, begging permission. She did not object, but instead reached between her legs and forced him into her faster. Her force did nothing, but make him want it more. He wished he had the stamina to take her every which way he could imagine, and in his carnal state, he could think of so many ways...

He pulled her up by her shoulders and placed his hand on her breast. He hoped that she would whimper, and when it came true, he leaned over her shoulders. "A girl who read the lines in my hand once told me that two is always better than one." He whispered, raising his other hand, weighing her breasts, pinching at tugging at her turgid nipples.

"She must have been very smart." She managed to say, making him smile, and grabbing at his wrists. He did not want to stop, but he needed to in order to get his leverage. He kissed her spine as she fell back onto her hands, digging her nails into the sheets. He began to thrust as he had before, and she spun around a time or two to kiss him, and it made him want to touch her again, everywhere. He wanted to slip a hand between her legs again, and feel the wet. The thought alone however, was enough to finish him.

He climaxed, and growled in the back of his throat. Careful not to hurt her, she dug her fingers into the bedding as she had done earlier. When he was done, she turned over and held out her arms. He laid his head on her chest, and she curled her fingers into his hair.

"Did you like it?" She asked with a smile. Jon thought that she already knew the answer, so he smiled and pulled her closer to kiss her forehead.

"What do you think?" He asked, close to her lips.

"Yes." She answered for him.

"Yes." He agreed, kissing her lips and taking in a deep breath through his nose.

While they laid there, Ev̱gení̱s had fallen asleep, as she had the first time. Jon could not say why, but he liked listening to her breathe. She breathed so lightly at times, that it was as though she did not breathe at all. She kept her hands lacing into his hair, and Jon enjoyed how she liked to play with it.

He thought of when he might run away with her. They would head to Old Town first, tomorrow evening, but only to fetch supplies. If they spent the night, they would be returned to Winterfell by morning if someone had discovered them. He thought of her father, and the look he had given him when he thought Jon had tried to steal her. He did not care to imagine how cross he would be to find out that they had eloped. He wondered how furious her mother would be, once she heard of it._ I wonder if that would make _Ev̱gení̱s_ distressed or not, to hear of her mother's fury. _

_What would Father say when he heard? _The walls of Winterfell had often felt like a prison of sorts, on the days where Robb would tease him, unknowing how deep his words had hurt. Lady Stark would whisper threats about him even when he was young enough to still trip over his own feet. Now though, in Ev̱gení̱s' arms, he could not recall a single place that he would rather be. He could fall into her and escape more surely than any narrative.

Jon saw the terrible dawn approaching, and he knew that morning had come. _So soon? _He wanted to slip away without waking Ev̱gení̱s, but he could not resist. He put on his clothes and sat beside her. He began to run his hands over her hair, and it was not long before she woke.

"Do you have to leave already?" She stretched, her voice changed.

"It's dawn, we can't be caught. Not so close to our escape." He reminded her. He moved slightly, uncomfortable. They had loved several other times last night, and his manhood ached. Still though, he wished he could have her one more time that morning.

"I feel like we only just went to sleep." She smiled, her arms above her head, and her breasts bare and alluring.

Unable to resist, he placed his wrist on her ribs and plucked playfully at her nipple several times. "That's because we did only _just_ fall asleep." She smiled and took in a deep breath. His member ached terribly as it began to stiffen._ Curse this pain._ He removed his hand from her breast immediately, and looked away. Her nudity was so welcomed by his mind, and such bait for his loins.

She sat up, and rested her head on his shoulder. "When can we leave?" She asked with tired eyes and a simper. "I want to be Mrs. Snow." His stomach leaped. He had never liked his name quite so much.

He placed his hand onto hers about his shoulder. "That's what I want too." He kissed her lips once softly, straining to keep his mind on something other than her nakedness. He pulled away and looked at her sitting up straight. She became embarrassed, curling up and resting her arms on her knees. He loved that she could still be coy, even when he had seen all of her. "We're leaving tonight. I'll prepare the horses and bring food and drink for a day. We'll be at Old town by morning, and there we can get more supplies and get on."

"Where will we go?" She asked

Jon was proud that he had already thought it through, the map of Westeros clearly outlined in his mind. "We'll go from inn to inn at first, and we might need to spend a night or two outdoors, but I'll take care of you. Once we're south enough, I'll build you a good home."

She blinked slowly, took in a deep breath and smiled at him in admiration. "This is it you know. Will you miss Winterfell? I said goodbye to my home weeks ago, not knowing that I would not return. Can you do the same, knowing that you won't be back?"

"We'll be back someday. When Robb is Warden of the North. It will be many years, but we will come back. Besides, I think I should like to have you in the hot springs once again." They both giggled, then kissed for a while.

The sun was coming up quickly, and he had to go. "I will come and get you tonight. Late in the evening. Can you be ready by then?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I will spend time with my father." She laced up her nightclothes.

"I will say my goodbyes as well." He thought of Robb and Arya, but it was Bran that ate away at his conscience. _I will see Bran again, and he will be fine. _

She walked him to the door and kissed him once more. "I'll be waiting." He enjoyed the idea of seeing her that night, and leaving for good. How many times he had dreamed of seeing the outer walls of Winterfell, and bidding goodbye to the past.

They held hands as long as they could before the door closed. "I love you." She said at the last moment. He looked back wanting to respond, but the door had already closed. His eyes lingered on the oak door for a while longer, and he took in a deep breath.

As he turned his heel, he knew that he would have to speak to Robb immediately. He would tell Robb the plan. Someone at Winterfell needed to know where he was going, and that he had every intention of returning someday.

**Hi all, **

**Sorry for the delay, I had a lot of stuff going on and I had so little reviews, I was afraid people werent interested anymore. **

**I hope this chapter made up for it! There will be more to come very soon. **

**Please review!**

**Cheers!**

**-Pat**


	15. Jon: The News

Jon found his brother in the training yard, before he had gone to see Arya. _It is best that I speak to Robb first._ He could see him across the way, sitting on the stone bench, his head down and his elbows resting on his knees.

"Robb." He called his name, and Robb lifted his head without looking at him. "Robb." He repeated. Ghost ran past his legs, and jumped onto Greywind.

As he approached his brother, he could see him rising from his seated position. Robb did not answer, but his chest heaved in a deep breath. Jon stopped only steps away, his smile fading with every second that his brother did not answer him.

"Bran's dead." Jon said. He looked away quickly to the ground, ashamed of what he had done the night he had passed._ I should have stayed all night. I should have been there to hold his hand. What was I thinking?!_

"Jon." Robb said once, trying to ease the pain.

"No. There is no excuse for this. He needed me, and I wasn't there." Jon winced, beginning to raise his voice.

"Jon, no!" Robb yelled over him. Jon looked up at him, flaming, the heat rushing to his ears and turning them red. "I thought they would have said something." He looked like he was in pain, struggling for every word.

"No one thought to tell me anything. No one ever does, and it doesn't matter because now he's dead and if I were there I could have done something, I could have made him feel safe, I could have..." In fact, Jon had no idea what he could have done for his brother, he only knew that Bran had died, while he was enjoying himself. He felt like such a fool.

"Bran is not dead." Robb blurted out, his mouth still open, as though he were out of breath. Jon winced once more.

"He's not-"

"No, he's not!" Robb said again, wiping his leather glove over his face. He was shaking his head now.

Jon felt a sliver of relief. "Well, then what is it? Who should have said what?" Jon's voice was argumentative, and he knew it. He yelled only because his brother did.

Robb ran his tongue over his teeth from under his lips, refusing to meet his brothers' eyes. "I spoke with Father today. He was told that Lord Kyría had requested something of the King. Granted that Father give his consent, the King granted his request to unite our houses."

Jon shook his head, and winced, unable to determine his brothers point.

"In marriage Jon! In marriage." Robb yelled again, his face horrified, as though he wished someone else might have been able to do this terrible thing. He now looked at his boots. "The agreement is to marry the eldest of both our houses." Robb's eyes met Jon's on the final word, huffing as though he had ran.

Jon stopped wincing, and breathing, all at once.

"Our plans worked too well." Robb explained more gently, though it has no effect on Jon's emotions.

Jon blinked finally, and took in his first breath. He could not believe that this quick- thought betrothal would work. The heir of Winterfell could not marry a girl who could not provide him with a son. Jon waited for him to speak the words that would confirm his thoughts. He yearned to hear it.

Robb shook his head, and looked to his boots again. Jon's heart sank into his stomach, and he thought he might retch. He closed his eyes, and rolled them to the back of his head.

"Father came to me this morning, it all happened so quickly, I barely had time to speak. He accepted the offer Jon. Apparently, my mother was very enthusiastic. She believed what she saw the night that Ev̱gení̱s danced with me. I was told that her father is going to tell her about it as soon as she wakes."

Jon could not believe what he was hearing. He took a step back and began to shake his head. _How could this be? Ev̱gení̱s cannot bare children? How did her father secure this match? What will Ev̱gení̱s say? _His heart beat fast, and he could feel the heat rising into his head. Robb looked at him with pain in his eyes, it seemed that he was hurt, by what was happening to Jon. But Jon could not help but feel slightly betrayed by all around him. Robb always got the best, and he had liked Ev̱gení̱s since the beginning. _No, stop. Robb would never betray me. _

He could not wrap his mind around what was happening. All logic gave way to what seemed like a nightmare. He would wake up in a moment, next to Ev̱gení̱s. Her soft olive skin brushing against his body.

The news seemed all a blur. He had thought Bran was dead, and his reaction stirred something in him that he had not thought of before. The shame rose from its shallow grave and tore at Jon's conscience. _What if Bran had died? This might have been a test set for me by the gods. While my own brother lay dying I made love, to a girl who would be my brother's wife. _He argued within himself, his hope and happiness trying to make their peace. _She is not Robb's wife yet. I should run away now with her before anything is formally announced. She is mine. She loves me._

Jon opened his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Jon, you need to run now. Run to her chambers and leave before anything else stops you. I can create a distraction-"

"No." Jon said shortly. He hated himself for what he needed to do, and he knew she would hate him as well.

"You must marry her." His heart ached and burned as the words oozed out of his mouth.

"Jon, you are not thinking straight. You have to go now." Robb tried to push him, but Jon caught his brother's shoulders firmly, slowing meeting his eyes.

"I'm thinking more clearly now than I ever have Robb." It was Robb's turn to wince now. Jon licked his lips and closed his eyes, "While Bran lay dying last night, I was making love to her. Enjoying myself."

"You had no way of knowing-"

"Knowing what?! I knew Bran was dying, and that's all the matters. He might have died, and I would never forgive myself. I'm a man of the Night's Watch, I always have been. I'm ashamed that I had to destroy her honour to learn that." Robb was not believing in his brother's words. Jon did not believe his own. "I could never give her what you could," Jon thought of the castle, the title, and the land, "If I take her, we will be poor, and she would be shamed. I'm just a bastard, Robb, I know that now, I've just been playing at being her Lord for a few days."

Robb looked as though he was going to speak in objection again, when Jon shook him, and pushed him up against a large oak tree. "You have to take care of her Robb. You have to be everything that I could not."

Robb took in a deep breath, perhaps understanding that Jon would not back down. "Why are you doing this Jon. You love her."

"I do." Admitting it, made him feel something. He would keep that forever, knowing that he loved her first. Knowing everything he knew about her, and accepting it. "But it's just a word if you don't show it." That is what he would do now.

_What was I thinking? She is too high above me, and I almost destroyed her. I almost destroyed myself. If Bran had died, I would have too. I went against what I knew and who I was. I am a fool to have thought she and I could be together. _

Robb nodded, his head, and Jon shook his own. Robb had no idea what Jon was about to tell him, and what he was going to ask him to sacrifice. He thinks, his task will be simple. That all he needs to do it wield a sword on her behalf. Jon hated that he had to do this to his brother. "I need to tell you something about her Robb. Do not tell her that you know until she is ready to tell you herself." His instructions were clear, but Robb remained confused. Jon could not believe what he was about to ask of him, but it needed to be done to secure his own sanity. Jon explained to details of her affliction, and what it meant for Robb.

Robb was shocked at first, but soon, it fluttered away like it had with Jon. He wondered if Robb still liked Ev̱gení̱s the same way he had when he had first met her. He wondered if he had ever truly stopped. The thought almost dribbled jealousy like a puss filled wound, but Jon stopped it before it could fester. _A husband should like his wife. _He told himself._ She was never really mine. Not if her father had planned this all along. _

He thought of her father and the anger rose in him once more. _What could that fool have been thinking? What if Robb were a different man? One who had little honour and a bad temper. _Ev̱gení̱s would have been shunned, and her affliction shouted from the rooftops for all to hear. _The man is a poor father, and she is poorly handled. _He would have killed him, if this arrangement had not worked out so well.

When it was over, they embraced and Jon knew that his brother would do as he asked him. "I will take care of her Jon. You have my word, as the future Lord of Winterfell, and as your brother." Jon squeezed his brother harder before pushing him away and holding him at arms length.

"I know you will." Jon finished the promise with words he barely heard leaving his own mouth. Everything he had just said and done, was completed by honour alone, and everything in his body wanted to do the opposite. _This is what it feels like to put someone else above yourself. This is what it is to be like Father, and to do your duty. _He did not like it, but he took comfort in the only thing he had. He would see Ev̱gení̱s one last time tonight, and he would do all he could to comfort her. Again, he felt the need to wretch, if she wept, he would hate himself even more.

The two brothers stood in there as tall as any tree, they seemed so much older than they had been that morning. Jon knew what kind of storm awaited him in the hours to come, and he felt as though the boy in him had died a terrible death. He was being asked to do the unthinkable. To give away what he loved most in the world to his brother, and run far away from Winterfell to a place where he would never see her again. _How different this day had started... _

As he and Robb moved into the castle, the dire wolves continued to play in the cold dirt, as though nothing has happened.


	16. Evgenís: Duty

Knock

Knock

Ev̱gení̱s' dress was not yet fully laced when she looked to the door with far too much interest. _It can't be Jon, silly girl. _She hid her interest feebly by looking to the ground.

While one maid, finished lacing her tight, the other answered the door. It was Father, and he came in slowly, it was possibly, the last time she would see him. The feeling was bittersweet, but every time she thought of leaving Father, Jon's image consoled her. He walked in slowly, his hands were laced behind his back.

"Father." She said, with the tiniest smile she could muster. "She just needs to finish my laces."

Father stared at her with a proud expression. "Good morning Ev̱gení̱s." He had a smile on his face, as he rocked on his feet. She realized then that he had something to tell her. His nervous traits showing obviously._ He still hasn't given me a proper scolding for the night he found me with Jon, soaking wet in the woods. _With all that had been going on, it seemed impossible that he could still be cross about that.

"I should have never let you go to the last feast. I should keep you hear tonight as well. To punish you." He meant to be stern, but a feeble smile remained painted on his face.

Feigning stupidity would get her out of it. "I know father. It was silly of me to have gone in the wood, but I was not alone, and we were not lost."

"I _know._" He said with a hint of distain.

"He meant no harm, father. You must believe me." Her maid finished lacing her dress, and went for Ev̱gení̱s' jewelry. She knew that even if she did convince father of Jon's innocence, by tomorrow morning, it would all be in vain.

"Lord Stark assured me the same. Have you been speaking with him?" He joked. "I suppose I could let this small infraction go. I will not air our laundry here." Ev̱gení̱s knew that he would forget all about the punishment. "Would it be too much for me to ask you to exercise a bit of caution? Our family cannot afford a scandal. And the arm of a bastard boy, however noble his intentions may be, is no place for you."

Ev̱gení̱s froze, trying to hide her fear. She could not help but wonder if he knew something.

"Leave us." Father said, as Ev̱gení̱s' handmaid raised the necklace to her neck. She placed the beads down and bowed out of the room quickly, the other maid following. "Robb Stark, now that's a match worth talking about."

Ev̱gení̱s had been stung by a red wasp once, and her throat swelled for days. She was having a much harder time breathing now.

She whirled around from her looking glass, "Father, what is-"

"Lady Stark agrees with me." He added. She watched him pace around the room in silence, as she grew more suspicious.

"I don't know that Robb Stark is as good a match as you say." Was all she could come up with. She whirled back around, and fumbled with her necklace. She prayed that he would not ask _why_.

"Robb Stark is the heir to Winterfell, and future warden of the North. He's exactly the type of match we've always been looking for." He spoke as though it were a family affair. Something that had never bothered her, until now. "Other's have noticed the particular interest he has taken in you. He asked you to dance on the first night we arrived, and again at the last feast."

"And so we are a good match?" She argued, her poise slipping away.

"Where is this coming from?" He asked sternly and confused. Admittedly, she had never argued with her father on matters of marriage before. "If I were to secure a marriage between you and the Stark boy, it would be most advantageous."

Ev̱gení̱s' chest felt as though it might collapse. She could not take in one satisfying breath. "I wont submit to another one of those exams!" She finally panicked.

"You won't have to." He remained calm, no longer looking at her.

"Impossible!" She seethed. "No Lord would marry his heir to a woman who cannot produce children! You are setting me up for another fall!" She did not want to hear any more. She wanted Jon to come in now and take her away. She wanted to dream of being miles away from here. The walls seemed to be closing in around her._ I want Jon. I want to be in the South! I know exactly what he's implying, and if I hear it, I'll just scream._

"It's done!" He raised his voice, and threw his hand down hard onto a wooden table.

"Done?!" She repeated. She began to breath more quickly now, winded, and exhausted. "How can you say this to me?! How could you do this without my knowledge!? I wont do it!"

"You can and you will! You are my daughter. You will do as I bid. This is the best thing for you! The best thing for us all!" He took a step forward. Ev̱gení̱s' heart grew more fearful, and she thought she might wretch. This was not her father. This was a frustrated, desperate man.

He grasped her upper arms and pulled her towards him, speaking in High Valyrian, "Why can't you just be glad that I've found you a place here?!" He seethed, his eyes burning, and his confusion melting away into vexation.

Ev̱gení̱s wanted to scream back, but the shock caught her in the back of the throat. She barely breathed as he sullenly stared at her. She felt as though any movement would be seen as struggle. Watching him watching her made her see something that she had not seen in him before, an answer to a question she was afraid to ask.

"You didn't tell them..." She watched his expression, contort into a helpless anger. "Did you?" She whispered, shaking her head. She was terrified at the thought, and prayed to be wrong.

He threw her away as though he could not look at her any longer. Turning his back, he placed his hands onto the wooden table, his head down.

She held her breath once more. He lied to them, and now there was a marriage contract made up and ready to be signed, all without the Starks knowing who exactly they were marrying their heir to.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" She asked, quiet at first. "Once they find out that I cannot produce an heir they will throw me away like all the others. Only this time, I will be dishonored and so will you!" She screamed now, wishing she had the stamina to refrain from hurting him. "Are you listening?!" She screamed, louder than before. "Answer me!"

He spun around quickly and Ev̱gení̱s, blinked. She had never seen her father reduced to tears. "YOU DON'T THINK I KNOW THAT?!" He boomed, his eyes swollen and red. She wanted to speak, but she could not find the words. "WHAT CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?! THE STARKS ARE GOOD PEOPLE, AND THAT BOY IS INFATUATED WITH YOU!" He took in a deep exasperated breath. Sitting on her bed, his head fell into his hands.

It was silent for a long time. Ev̱gení̱s' shock grew more evident with every second that went by. She knew he wanted her married, but she did not know what depths he would go to have it done.

He spoke again through his hands. Broken and tired from what seemed like a lifetime of disappointment, "A father would do anything for the advancement of this children. I am no different."

She took a step forward, but stopped herself, still shocked. She thought a moment about what he was saying, and felt ashamed. He always did what was best for her, but for the first time, she felt the need to question it.

"You need to be so perfect, he could never leave you." He said in almost a whisper, sounding more like mother than himself. "I did this for you, and for our family. If you don't get married, your sisters will not either, our house will founder." Ev̱gení̱s felt ill, but she could not help but listen. "The Starks will treat you well. Look at that Theon Greyjoy! They act as though he is part of their family- and he is an enemy." Ev̱gení̱s thought of Theon, and the way he treated her. She had no intention of ever telling Jon. He would kill him. Father looked at her, "Robb Stark likes you very much, and he is a good man."

She closed her eyes tight, and exhaled. Father continued to speak, but she did not need to listen. She thought about the last few days, and what she had gotten herself into. Jon was who she loved. She could not deny it. What father was asking of her was unfair and monstrous.

She had one thing left, a final chance. "I can't marry Robb Stark." She said, almost in a whisper. Her love for Jon was betraying her. She did not want to have to explain anything. "I love-"

"I know." He interrupted, "I know about you and that boy. I knew it from the start." He looked to the floor again, seeming more like the understanding man she had grown to love. Ev̱gení̱s closed her eyes again and hoped, like she had not done in what felt like years. "Love can make us do things that we might not have been capable of otherwise. Foolish things."

_Is he talking about me? Or himself?_

Her heart fell. The man she had known as her father was gone. He would choose this path in order to gain a marriage and protect the family name. Her stomach turned again, like she had jumped down from a tree branch. She wanted to fight, and to claw her way out of it. Her father was right. Love did make people do extraordinary things. She felt as though she had lived more in those few days than she had in her whole life.

Finally, the news caught hold of her. She collapsed on a nearby chair, defeated. It creaked, like it was mocking her. Every fiber in her body wanted to fight, like she had never done before. Logic however, rocked her uneasily like a sloop on choppy water. She placed her hand over her mouth, and breathed deeply. Striving to overcome the seasickness. She knew her fate was always meant to be carved out for her. She was a noble woman, bred for this sort of thing. With being noble, came obligations that she had ignored since she had been in the North. She was a daughter. _A pawn, _as she had put it once.

What father asked of her now, was not beyond what any other father had ever asked of a daughter. _Get married. Lie for the advancement of us, and the plunder of another. _What he asked though, she knew was most of all, it was impossible. No one could love someone past her particular kinds of flaws. It would be unfair to everyone in the situation.

_Why leave Jon? Only to have the Starks finish with me, and cast me out anyhow?_ Even still, her heart ruled her. Until, finally she met with the sad realization, that she was completely correct a moment ago. No one could ever love anyone past certain problems. Her kind of problems. Jon would love her for as long as Robb would. _What's the difference? _Without children to legitimize a marriage, trouble would surely follow. Either of them would love her for a month before the love faded, and her aliment became the dominant reason to leave her behind. Her eyes began to swell with the knowledge of the things she had always known in the back of her mind.

_I was a fool to let myself love. What was I thinking?_ She ran the plan through her head, and how she had met and fallen for a bastard boy. _I would run away with him, and live in squalor? It would never have lasted. We would hate each other in months. Weeks even. _She shook her head. She hated where she was, negative, and cruel to herself and loved him, but she would do as she always did when she knew she could not have something. She would grow to hate it. She winced, too saddened by her realization of how they would end up. Jon would be in a frozen wasteland, cold every night. _Does he even know about this ill fated plan yet? _

Her disposition frightened her more. She imagined Jon riding to Winterfell as his uncle Benjen had. She would put her head down or look away as he embraced his brother, and he would walk by her as though they had never been close. She took in another abrupt breath, the sweat beginning to build up on her brow. She rubbed her face once, unashamed now by her open distress.

Trying to consume the hard truth that she found difficult to swallow, she spoke, "This is so unfair." She knew she might have sounded like a stubborn child.

She heard father stirring, and footsteps to follow. She felt two cold hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. She looked into nothingness, and took the gesture as some kind of apology. _You will sell me off, ask me to do the impossible, and console me once it's all over. _She wanted to scream.

She thought of Robb Stark. The poor man that she would have to swear herself too. It would never be the same, and she could never love him like she loved Jon._ He will know that I do not love him. Even if I put everything I have into it, it could not possibly feel the same._ Her skin crawled at the idea that she would have to try. She felt like she was betraying Jon already.

She knew that when they paraded her towards him today, she would have to feign interest. She would have to smile and dance, and laugh as though nothing had gone wrong. She remembered what she had thought of him the first time she had met him. It was Robb Stark that captured her attention first. She noticed him among the crowd, and the night of the feast, every girl in the hall had stared at him longingly. But Jon was the jewel among stones, she had come to realize, and she could never not notice him now.

She thought of the many women who had gone before her into marriage. The ones who were unlucky. Robb Stark was wealthy, handsome, and very kind. She almost felt ashamed to be refusing a match that so many others would die for.

_Father had said he was infatuated with me, but I wonder how that love might fade away once I tell him I am infertile. _

She held her breath. The answer sitting in her lap. She would tell Robb of her affliction. Once he heard, he would not want her any longer. She didn't care who knew now. It was time to end the charade. _Father tricked the Starks, and they might become cross, but I will not have Robb suffer for a lie. If there is a chance that Jon and I can be. Then I cannot let it slip away. _

She became more calm at the thought, though somehow she was not yet settled._ The sea settles before a storm... _

She remembered the bracelet in the grinds of her cup, and more than ever she wished she knew who it would be. She would to drink a gallon, if it meant she could have answers, but every Myrish Lady knew that she could not read her own fortune. No one else in the North knew how, so she would have to wait.

"This will work. I'm counting on the goodness of the Starks, the way their boy looks at you, and a hope that I have had for a long while. I want all my children to be safe and happy." It was then that she realized how invested Father was. How he hoped as much as she did that something would go right_. If two prayers contradict each other, do they cancel each other out? _She wished it went to the one who prayed harder, but even that would be a mighty competition now.

She breathed as carefully as she could, so as not to disturb her stomach. She thought that even the slightest movement would make her wretch.

He took in a deep breath_, and kissed her scalp. "Valar morghulis."_

She swallowed once and closed her eyes. "Valar dohaeris." She said in almost a whisper.

**Hi all, **

**Hope the story is taking you on the same meotional rollercoaster that the real GoT/ASoIaF does. I actually cried while I was writing it a few times. **

**Just wanted to remind everyone that the reason it takes long to update sometime is because I'm working hard to keep the story at a certain level of excellence. **

**Everything is for a reason, as you will see as the story progresses. Remember to review! **

**Cheers!**


	17. Jon: The Hurt

**Jon massaged his temples with both hands, while making his way to Ev̱gení̱s' room.**

His stomach turned as he realized how close he was to her room, and he prayed that he would not take out his frustration on her. _How could you give me away to Robb?_ He knew she would ask. It wounded him to think of her plight. He wondered how someone could love another person so much. It surprised him the first time he had thought of her happiness as the most important thing in his life, and it still surprised him now.

_She was supposed to be my wife. _He struggled to overcome his feelings about her from the start and now, here he was again. Struggling between two terrible truths. He loved her still, no matter what he could say. But he had also, only days ago, given away what he thought was his_ true _duty. A duty to the realm.

He reached her chambers and leaned against the cold stone wall to the left of the door. _Am I truly doing what is right? Or have I just invented this problem. _Jon knew he could leave with her now. Grab her by the arms, kiss her and run faster and farther than they had planned. _And what about Robb? He loved her from the start, though not as much as I. Never as much as I. _

He closed his eyes and hit the back of his skull against the stone. He was torn like never before. One voice begging him to stay, _You love her, you always will. Why are you leaving? Why are you doing this to her? Why do this to yourself? _While another screamed louder, _You're a bastard, you have nothing to offer her. Robb loved her first, Robb can take care of her. You belong in the Night's Watch. It's the only place where a bastard can make his inferior birth right. _The third was the worst, the cruelest, _She will forget about you in time. She will learn to love Robb. She will be Lady of Winterfell, a title you could never hope to give her. If you leave, you are doing the right thing. The honorable thing. _

He wondered if she thought that he had known all along. _What if she cries? Or begs? Gods, what if she has already made peace with it? _He wanted her to love him still, and forever, but he knew it would be too much to ask. He wished she would always remember him. But he could see only the bitter inevitable truth, she would love Robb over him one day, and her happiness would all be owed to him letting her go. He would learn to live with that small bit of happiness. It would sooth him through all of this ugliness, and the ugliness to come.

He turned quickly, before the thought left his mind. He knew what he had to do, and his body led him towards the door like The Stranger to his grave.

He reached for the knob of the door, when it seemed to open itself. Before he could back away, Ev̱gení̱s ran out and slammed into him with force.

He watched as she landed on the ground, her hair flipped over to the other side of her head. His stomach leapt, and he wished it would go away. _Will it always be like this?_

She brushed it out of her face, and he caught a glimpse of the wild anger in her expression. Once she realized it was him, she drew in a deep breath. He smiled at her in adoration without thinking.

"Jon!" She said thankfully. She smiled and he felt like a fool for her all over again. _It won't ever change, I'll always jump for her. _

Before he would say another word, he knew that this was not the place. He reached out for her hand and helped her up. His palms were sweaty and he could feel her slipping away before he tightened his grip and disappeared with her, back into her chambers.

He was careful with the handle. Slowly closing it so that no one would hear. "Jon!" she yelled again, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her firm against his body, feeling her breasts press against his chest. Her hair brushed against his nose, and he could smell the perfume drizzled on the length of her neck._ She smells so good... She's so warm._ He could feel himself stiffening, and he rolled his eyes and pushed her away.

She clasped her hands onto his face and looked into his eyes. "Jon, we need to leave now! Right now! All you need to know is that my father wants me to get married. If we don't leave now, it will be too late. Contracts will be signed tonight. We need to leave!" _Seven hells, she wants to run away as much as I do...And she doesn't know that I know. _ He grabbed her hands gently from his face and held in his own.

He hung his head down, gently touching and fiddling with her fingers. They were soft but cold, and now, damp, thanks to him.

She looked at his face, sullen and defeated, and moved her eyes quickly from her hands to his face again, "You know." She did not ask.

It hurt.

"I know everything." He said, looking at her from the top of his eyes. _And I hate it..._

"If you know, then I don't have to explain. We need to leave. Are you prepared?" She continued to be frantic, afraid that what he had to say would not be what she wanted to hear. _He knew what she expected of him, and he knew what he had to give._

"Ev̱gení̱s-"

"No!" She screamed, and his heart stopped. The look on her face squeezed his heart with sharp fingernails.

She moved away from him, tossing her wooden chair aside. It crashed against the wall, unbroken. Jon had never known this kind of power. Ev̱gení̱s was a porcelain doll, and he worried that if he dropped her, she might shatter.

"You need to listen to me." He edged towards her and she took a step back, wounding him worse than before.

_I have to make her listen._ He lunged forwards, faster than she, he caught her by both wrists and pulled her towards him. He bound her to his own chest with his arms. She stopped struggling after a moment, realizing that he was too strong to overpower.

He ground his teeth and hated himself more for having to hold her down.

"How could you?! Did you ever love me at all?" He closed his eyes and swallowed. That hurt worst of all.

"I love you more than you can imagine!" He pulled her away at arms length and scolded her.

"Then why not show it!?" She screamed louder, her Myrish voice shining through. _Fight?_

"What am I supposed to do?!" Jon yelled back, exasperated.

"Fight it. Fight with me! We can tell them all what we think of them best, by leaving!" _She seems so confidant, how can anyone be this sure about anything!?_

The voice that wanted her selfishly, wished he had not yet spoken to Robb. "Robb is my brother and I made him a promise! I can't just throw that to the wind!" _No matter how much I want to._

"And what about your promise to me?!" She shrieked, her voice cracking.

The cruelest voice rang out,_ Show her who you really are. Explain how useless you would be to her._ "I'm just a bastard, Ev̱gení̱s! I'm not the heir to Winterfell, I'm not even a Stark. I have no say in any of this. You think this is what I want?" He asked, leaning down to meet her eyes, seething his words into her face. "I don't want to let you go. I don't want to have to give you away to Robb. I want you for myself!" The truest words he had spoken all day.

He breathed heavily, and watched her look at him with an expression that he could not read.

This was his time to make her understand how happy she could be. It was in his power. He could make her the daughter she always wanted to be, and fulfill her duty. She would lose the man she loved, but she would gain another.

_When did things become so complicated?_ There was a time when it was simple not to _feel._ Love, duty. It stung, knowing which one he knew he had to choose.

He closed his eyes and took in a long, painful breath. He embraced her, and leaned his cheek on the crown of her head lovingly. He could not help but smell her hair again. _Perfect. _"I want you to be happy Ev̱gení̱s. I want you to be everything you can. With me, there is nothing for you."

"You sound like my father now." She argued, still as possible.

He did not like the comparison. He did not care for her Father. Not in the least. He did not like that he would sell his daughter to a family he barely knew, and he despised how he could set her up for such a fall. _What if the Starks were cruel? What if Robb were a lesser man? What if he didn't care for her? _He worried about her future with Lady Stark, but Robb would shield her from most of it. Jon would make sure of that.

She lifted her head, and he starred into her eyes for a long moment, expecting to see the colour of coal, but as he looked closer, he was surprised to see a smallest hint of chestnut brown. He starred longer, trying to remember their exact colour forever. "You're not thinking straight." She insisted. "You are going to leave me here with your _stupid_ brother!"

"Ev̱gení̱s!" He shook her once, speaking down to her. "I'm thinking better now then I have for a long while. We were never meant to be together. If you marry me, you'll be Ev̱gení̱s Snow. Do you know what that means?" _It's my worst nightmare, turned into a dream I never knew I wanted. _

"I don't care! I would be the happiest woman in Westeros!" She said stubbornly, pushing her face forward, and forcing him to retract his face quickly.

He took in a deep breath, surprised by his own patience. "Today, maybe." He said lowering his face to her level, "But what about in years to come?" He let her go and held her hands in his. "I don't want these hands to become rough from having to dig through dirt and plow fields." He could see her lip quivering. He was making himself believe what he was saying, giving an excellent performance. "I don't want you to have to wear rags and live in fear of your safety and suffer the life of a bastard's wife. You need to be strong." He cupped her face in his hands and got so close he craved a time when he could press his lips onto her. _She'll be Robb's wife soon... I shouldn't..._

"Jon," She began, closing her eyes. "I'm afraid! I'm afraid that someone might get hurt by my actions and lies. I'm afraid that I will be cast out once the world knows my secret. I'm afraid of my mother, and now my father, but more than anything, I'm afraid that I'll never feel the same way I felt when I was with you! I won't, I know it!" She stomped her foot. _I should be able to kiss her, just once more..._

"Robb loves you." He forced himself to say. "He loved you from the moment he saw you." Jon admitted reluctantly. _Robb who would be heir to Winterfell. Robb who would have the woman he loved. Robb who was the better son. The better husband. Robb her future lover..._

He tightened his fist. He did not want to be jealous of his brother. But it felt so good. Her face in his hands, her warm breath...

She looked away from his eyes and swallowed once. "I don't care who he loves. I love you. How does he feel about that?"

"He said he would honour you, no matter what. I asked him to look after you." He remembered, hating himself.

_She'll be happy. One day she'll be happy. She'll be happy. One day she'll be happy. _His two little fingers rubbed her soft neck...

She ripped his hands off of her. "You cannot be serious! Jon, this is me!" She pointed to herself, outraged. "_You_ love _me_! Remember? _You_ said _you_ would take care of me. _You_ said that _you_ loved me! And now you will so easily give me to your brother?"

He licked his lips, staring at the ground. Every type of frustration building inside of him. "I must honour my word. As Robb's wife, you will want for nothing. He will take care of you. I have willed it." She closed her eyes and winced at the words, as did he, _Robb's wife..._

"I don't want Robb!" She finally yelled.

_She wants you as much as she did the first day we realized our feelings for each other. _He wasn't sure which voice was urging him now.

He took her hands in his again, not allowing her to break free. "I am always going to love you. Nothing will ever change that." He said distracted, as though he were trying to listen to someone else whispering in his ear. "We have both forgotten our duties. You have your family honour to uphold. I could never forgive myself if I let you ruin your family name for me..."

She shook her head, and he watched her small lips as she spoke, "Where will you go? I can't stand the thought of you alone in the night. Frozen and lonely." _And you, so warm every single night in Robb's bed. And wet, I remember when you were wet..._

He dug deep for something that would convince her and himself. "I have always wanted to be a ranger. That is where I belong..." His words were certain, but the voice rang with doubt.

"And if Robb were to find out that I am unable to bare his children? Then what?"

His nostrils flared. "He knows." Jon averted his eyes. Unsure if he was ashamed that he had betrayed her secret to his brother. _It was for the best. Now she wont have to suffer through telling him on their wedding night. I will spare her as many sorrows as I can. _

Ev̱gení̱s closed her eyes. Her lips were tight as two tears streamed down each cheek. Jon closed his own as well, trying to hide his discontent. She fluttered her eyelashes and stared not at Jon, but to the ceiling.

He knew she would not weep, and he loved her for it all the more.

It was quiet for a few moments, when she finally looked at him again. "Why would he agree to such a ridiculous request?" She whispered, almost choking on her words, and losing her composure.

"Because I am his brother, and there is no one we trust more than each other. Because he is a good and honourable man. And because he cares for you." He placed his hands onto her cheeks once more.

"More than you?" She begged.

_No. Never. _

She placed her hands on his chest, and his heart quickened. He stared with forlorn eyes. She slid her hands onto his shoulders and down to his hands, she placed his finger tips to her lips, kissing them softly. He could feel himself breathing slowly through his mouth.

His hand brushed her cheek again, and he began move forward. Something in the softness of her skin called to him.

He bent low, his lips only inches from her face. He hovered there for a moment, trying to hear what the voices were saying. Feeling deep in his gut that this might be immoral, that he was doing his brother wrong.

The voices never came and her scent took control of him. He kissed her cheek softly, and did not pull away.

Then, again.

And again.

And again, until he found his mouth traveling closer and closer to her lips. It was so tender, so sweet, that it might have been the first time. He kissed all around them, before he could not take it any longer.

_I want her. I need her. She was mine from the start. _

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her forward, holding them tight and keeping her still. His eyes were on her tiny pink lips, and nowhere else. Slowly, he pressed his lips onto hers. Gently brushing and pulling away. _If I don't press too hard, maybe it doesn't count..._

Only a small peep of pleasure from her was enough to stiffen him, and his delusions of tenderness were smashed._ I want to be inside of her again... Just once more..._

His fingers found their way into her hair and he pulled her closer, deepening their kiss. With time, he began to plunge his tongue into her mouth like he had done so many times before.

He wanted to lift her onto her vanity. Pull her skirts up above her knees, wait for her to wrap her legs around his hips and thrust himself onto her.

_Once more...Just once more. _

He wanted to curse. It wasn't in him to do such a thing. She was Robb's bride. Not his... He made a shaking fist, and felt himself growing soft.

They slowed, and soon it was over. Their passion quieted by the sound of their breathing, like a flame devoured by the breeze.

She grasped at his doublet, wanting to continue. _An endless life of kissing you? I want it too Ev̱gení̱s! _He wished he could say.

Their foreheads touched, and his fingers laced into every one of hers. Their chests were still heaving. "This..." He began, his voice cracking, "This has to be. You know that. I must do my duty to the realm, and you to your family. I know it would be our greatest unhappiness if we did not." He lied to himself. _One day, it won't be a lie...I will be pleased to be a man of the Night's Watch...And she will be pleased to be the Lady of Winterfell. _

She bit her lips together, and breathed steadily through her nose. She seemed focused on her breathing. She covered her hand to her mouth, as though she was biting back pain. Jon remembered fondly, a time when she had cover her mouth to stop a cry of pleasure. They were both smiling then.

He wanted to destroy the room, and her father, and most of all himself. His anger had always been at its worst when he felt helpless. _You should be taking her away from here. That's why you're so angry. _

He took in a deep breath and he pushed calm back into himself. _That's not going to happen. Let it go you fool. _

He lifted her chin to look at him,_ I want her to see the severity in my eyes,_ "I will always love you."

"I know." She peeped. He grew proud of her. Her composure. Her dignity. _No one is stronger than her. _"I love you too." She said too quickly. Her eyes looked like glass as they filled with tears. Her chin was stuck in place by his hand, but her pupils could not meet his.

"Take care of my family. Take care of Robb. I know he will take care of you." He wished that he did not say it as quickly it sounded.

He kissed her forehead and she could take no more. She slipped his hand away and rested her head onto his chest. He could feel the heat, and knew that she was crying without a sound.

_I am a terrible person. _

He backed away from her and moved towards the door. "Jon!" She called once more, and he winced, but could not turn around. To look back now would prove disaster for them both. "If you ever find yourself back in Winterfell. Don't be afraid to speak to me. I don't think I could bare it if you ignored me."

He felt his ears growing warm, and his nose beginning to run. He took in a deep breath as if to sniffle. "I could never ignore you. Never." He whispered, turning the door knob and disappearing from the room.

As he walked back to his chambers, he recalled a scar that he had from when he was a child. He slipped and skinned both his knees on a plain of tiny sharp stones. The stones were stained forever, and they had to be removed one by one. Maester Luwin said that he could see the bone through the torn flesh. This hurt more.

**Hi all, **

**Sorry for delay. I wrote the entire chapter, then, threw it away because I didnt think it was good enough. Once I re-wrote it, I felt a lot better about publishing. Thanks for being so patient!**

**As always, please follow and review. I feel a lot better when I hear reviews! **

**Cheers!**

**-Prosati**


	18. Evgenís: The Contract

**The sun had set on Winterfell by the time she was dressed to sign the contracts. Her charcoal tears destroyed her previous silk gown. It was the second dress she owned, spoiled by Jon Snow.**

Though dressed in her best, she was being devoured from the inside. She viewed herself in her looking glass as she walked towards the door. Her red nose and swollen eyes said too much for her liking. She sent for her maid to fetch a silver coin, bathed in snow. The cold soothed away the redness from her face, and soon, she looked like nothing had changed.

The walk through her threshold and down the hall left her time to remind herself what she was walking into. _Robb will certainly be there, and Jon might be too..._

She felt sick, thinking that Robb might smile or be the least bit happy to be there. Jon had said that Robb cared for her, but she was skeptical, wondering how he could have such feelings only having met her a few short times.

She hoped that she could keep her composure. If she wept, she knew she would never forgive herself, and the Starks might take great offense. _No tears. Remember dignity, always dignity._

"Ev̱gení̱s!" She did not need to turn around.

"Sansa." She could hear the girl drifting over quickly, a spring in her step.

"I've heard the news! We're to be sisters!" She began with excitement. "Oh, I knew that you and Robb were in love! I knew it all along!" She met with Sansa at the stairs and watched the hope and happiness in the girl's eyes. She loved and admired Sansa's optimism, wishing that she could take some for herself.

"Yes." Was all she could come up with. Her smile slowly fading.

Sansa looked as though she had just been struck, her fingers beginning to fiddle. "Robb and you will be so happy together...Winterfell can be very beautiful if you take the time to look..." She said with much less excitement in her voice, and her eyes averted.

Ev̱gení̱s suddenly felt terrible. Sansa had only wanted to welcome her into the family. She held out her arms and went in to hug the youth. "Sister." She said, sweetly. None of this was Sansa's fault, she had always been a dear girl. Sansa's smile returned and she leapt at the chance of a hug. They kissed each other's cheeks and broke apart.

_She would not be such a terrible sister to have_. She certainly enjoyed her company better then her own true sisters.

"Marrying your brother will be my greatest happiness." She lied, amazed by her own theatrics. She knew that if she could not fool Sansa, she had no chance of fooling the others. She smiled on the inside, pretending that the brother she spoke of was Jon...

Sansa's smile grew wider and she took Ev̱gení̱s' arm in hers as they walked down the stairs. "You two will have such beautiful children! Imagine, your dark hair and his blue eyes!"

_Urgh..._

Ev̱gení̱s thought she might miss a step. Her corset feeling tighter by the minute. She let out a mumble of a laugh through her nose, to acknowledge Sansa.

"Ev̱gení̱s, are you well?" Sansa grasped her arm in alarm.

"Yes. Perfectly." Ev̱gení̱s answered, almost convincing herself.

The doors of the hall made her heart sink into her stomach. When she arrived at Winterfell, she could hear the sound of music coming from those same doors, and she was excited to witness the culture of the North. All that awaited her now was a contract, and a quill that would help her sign herself away to the wrong man.

As she entered, Sansa moved towards her mother's side with haste. Alone, with the Stark family, her father, and the King in attendance, she moved forward despite their many eyes.

There was a large table, set with ink and two quills. She swallowed hard. Her betrothed rose from his chair quickly, watching her as intently as everyone else.

"Will this be long?" Arya whispered too loudly. Sansa looked at though her romantic mood had been shattered, and the sound of her arm punching Arya echoed off the walls.

Her eyes searched for the black hair she longed to see, but other than Arya, there was none to be found. She could not decide whether to be pleased or distraught at Jon's absence. _Perhaps he could not stand the sight of this. _

Ev̱gení̱s noted Lady Stark's absence as well. She wondered if she was the one who had kept Jon away, and not his love for her. Every time she blinked she saw Jon on the inside of her eyelids. Jon standing in the front of the hall with the quill in his hand, signing the contract. A small smile lingering on his lips, as he looked at her for as long as he could before lowering his eyes.

Lord Stark smiled with his mouth closed and his hands cupped together in front of him. She hoped that the smile she gave back was more convincing than it felt.

The closer she moved to the table, the colder she felt. Her arms and legs felt bloodless as she denied the opportunity to look at her intended. She knew he was beside her, staring. She kept her neck stiff as the Maester began to speak the terms of agreement.

Though only half past the hour, it was all a blur. Her mind everywhere but in the moment. She thought of Jon and how he kissed her. _He still loves me, he said so, why is he doing this to me?_

She wanted to be tender towards him, to find him and ask _why, _again and again until he agreed to run away, but her pride stood in the way. _Dignity, always dignity. _She wished she could hate him.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep maddening breath. Everything was wrong, but right. Cruel yet kind. _This was what I wanted wasn't it? A proper match, an advantageous marriage to secure my family's prosperity. I should have minded what I wished for. _

She opened her eyes again and gained the nerve to look at _him. _He was nearly a head and some taller than her while standing up straight, and he seemed to be listening intently to the Maester, as though he might miss something. Studying him, only made her realize, some of the facial commonalities he shared with Jon.

Hastily, she looked straight ahead once more. She knew it was wrong to hate Robb. Robb Stark promised himself to a woman that his brother deflowered. A barren woman, who could not possibly do right by him. A woman who was still in love with another. He was kinder than most, and charming. He stood beside her now, uncomplaining. A true noble, and better than she deserved.

_Robb should marry someone who loves him. Not the promise of a wife who might one day grow to like him more than his brother. A fair haired girl, who spoke softly, and could give him sons._ She did not belong here in Winterfell, between these two good brothers. She wished again that she could hate Jon Snow, for she feared that it would be the only way to remove herself from her feelings for him.

The Maester stopped and opened his arms to invite the two party's to sign. Lord Stark and Robb stepped forward first. Once they were done, Father jumped to sign next. When he passed the quill to her, she could feel every lump and texture of the wood as she scratched out her mark. When she pulled away, the ink had pooled at the end of her name. Black and blotchy.

The ceremony ended with a great many smiles, and Ev̱gení̱s had left the hall early to allow for the feast to begin. Robb met her eyes for only a moment, when she turned her heel to leave while everyone stood to go dress for dinner. She could still see his face, impatient to speak while his eyes followed her to the door.

She ran to the cold yard where it had all begun. The cold was terrible without any furs, but she welcomed it. It was the same as the night she had met Jon, and when the music began to play, its muffled sound could be heard from behind a closed door, floating on the night air.

She closed her eyes for nostalgia's sake, and thought of how it would be if it were only days ago. Jon would appear any moment, to speak to her for the first time. She ran their conversation through her poor memory, they were only whispers now, and so many words were missing.

She did her best to protect her gown from the mud and dirt, but inevitably, the North had claimed another one of her hems. She let out a sigh and stood in the dark, watching small snowflakes catch on her eyelashes.

_I wonder if Jon will be at the feast... _She sucked her teeth and wrapped her arms around herself, wondering if it would always be like this. _Will I always miss him so terribly? _

Her head was beginning to ache, as it had been since she signed the contracts. Caught between too many feelings, she feared that it was an ache that she would never be rid of. On one had, she missed Jon, she wanted him to be near to her always, and on the other, she had no business feeling like this any longer. She was another man's fiancée now. She moved her fingers to her temple and began to massage. _Another man... You know his name, say it! _

From the darkness, she could hear small quick footsteps, and before she could look behind her Greywind moved closer than she would have liked. The beast was twice as large as she remembered, and the further back she moved, it seemed to follow.

She noticed the trail of coin shaped pools behind the creature, leading to a dead rabbit lodged in its jaws. She did not want the panic to overcome her. As a young girl, she had run from a stray dog, and it had chased her and jumped onto her back. She knew they were tame, but she had not ever been alone with any of the Stark wolves without their master close at hand.

"Easy." She whispered, her voice shaking, with her hand out in a stopping motion. It moved closer, and the hairs on her neck began to rise, the animal's blood-soaked teeth caught the light.

More suddenly, she heard the sound of snow pressing and cracking under someone's feet.

"Greywind, no." Said a familiar voice. "Go on." She did not want to look back, but once Greywind ran away, leaving swirls of blood in the snow, she did anyway.

Robb Stark was lit faintly by the torch light, his furs adorned his shoulders, and he stared with an expression that she could not read.

_Why did he have to come now? I'm not ready to look at him._ Ev̱gení̱s fought the prickling urge to look away. Who was this man? Not the same Robb Stark who she had met before. He seemed different, though she did acknowledge that it might have been the circumstance.

"Thank you." She had to say, quickly, and with little regard for meeting his eyes.

"It was nothing." He said dutifully. It was the last word to be spoken for a short while. The wind blew and she could hear the sound of wolves howling in the far distance. She wondered if one of them were Ghost, and if Jon was near to him. The silence was stiff and uncomfortable._ How quickly things can change_. If this were a few days ago, she could speak to Robb openly._ Say something. _

Her legs touched the silk of her gown and the cold air chilled her more than she had already been. _I hate this cold. I want to go back to Myr. _Words she thought she would never have to say again. _No, I don't. I just want warm. I want Jon._ Giving into the frigid cold, she wrapped her arms around her body once more.

"You're cold." Robb said without asking. He made his way towards her.

"No, I'm not, really." She lied. Before she could turn her back to him, he had placed his brown pelt over her shoulders. The weight of the fur bore down on her.

"I don't need it, please." She said, watching him take a step back respectively, in nothing but his brown leather doublet. "You'll freeze."

"I'm used to the cold. You're not." He remarked. She noticed how the wind seemed to stop pinching her skin while she wore it. It was a magnificent pelt, one like she had never worn. The warmth from Robb's body lingered in the fabric and it held her like a hug. His scent was caught up in the cloak, but did not smell like Jon, despite living under the same roof.

"I..." He began. Her head snapped back to him, and she listened with caution. Standing straighter, he ran one of his gloved hands through his hair, and looked to the ground. "I know this is not what you wanted." _Was there ever a larger understatement?_ He looked to her for a response.

Her stomach turned, hoping that she could come up with something to say. She knew that she might have looked pathetic, but in that moment, she did not know how to remedy it. She opened her mouth once, then twice, but soon found herself lost for words. _I cannot cry. I won't. _Her hands came up, and her cultural habits began to shine. She moved her hands about her in the air, hoping that perhaps they might help her express herself. "I don't know what to say." She admitted, exasperated. She began to shake her head. Robb's eyes were dejected and his mouth a straight line. "I'm so lost. I don't know where to begin, or what I should tell you."

Tears filled her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day, she finally allowed them to drop. Her lashes divided the clear wet beads down her cheeks, but as fast as they poured out, a chilling breeze took them away.

Robb began to shake his head slowly, trying to say with his eyes, _You don't need to tell me anything. _

"I feel like no mater what I do, I am betraying someone. If I marry Jon, I will damage my family within a fortnight. But I would be eternally happy. But if..." She paused, struggling to say the words that would insult him, no matter how she phrased it, "If I marry you," Her breath could be seen, white and cloudy, disappearing into the air with the end of every word. "You will be displeased to find that I still love Jon, with all my heart," She ran her hands over her face in frustration. "And I know that the very idea of that is ridiculous! I signed a contract today stating that I would marry you!" She began to shout at no one in particular. Her thoughts were spilling out everywhere for the both of them to see.

Robb took a step forward. "No, please." She said with her hands out stretched. "I still love Jon, most ardently." She winced, and rubbed her eyes as best she could without smudging her charcoal. She hated how she was acting, and she loathed that she was standing here, professing love for someone other than who she was going to marry.

"I feel as though I am taking advantage of your charity." She swallowed.

_I'm a stupid girl. A vain and stupid girl. Robb didn't mean any harm. Robb didn't do this. He is doing his best, and I overstepped my honesty._ Knowing that she had wounded him, she did not wish to meet his eyes.

He strode towards her confidently, "I know that you love Jon." He interrupted, answering her foolish remark with a knowledgable, defeated sort of tone. "And I know he loves you."

She froze in her place, puzzled by his answer, she wiped the wet from her face as quickly as she could, ashamed of her pathetic display.

"Then why doesn't he want to marry me?" She wanted to end the controversy, and her piteous behavior. She could have died from embarrassment, but something deep inside had to ask.

"He loves you Ev̱gení̱s. You have to believe that. I was the first one to learn of your father's plan, and when I told Jon..." His expression contorted into pity, "The look on his face..." He shook his head, "He will never forgive himself for this."

"Then why do it?" She pressed.

Robb took in a deep breath and averted his eyes for a moment. "I suppose, he thought that he was not grand enough for you. You're of high birth, and beautiful, and full of life-"

She let out a sarcastic laugh before he could finish._ I am the opposite of life. I cannot give it. _

"I'm no more grand than him. I shouldn't be your wife. You don't need to sink this low. You should marry someone who can bare your children. Someone who loves you."

It was not until she had finished speaking that she thought more carefully about what Robb had said. _You're of high birth and beautiful, and full of life-' _It was becoming obvious that Robb did not feel the same way as her concerning their arrangement. He cared for her, perhaps more than she was crediting him for. _Jon was right_.

Before she could tell what was happening, Robb had placed himself before her, half a step away. She did not move back, she was not afraid of Robb, but more than that, she craved a kind of closeness. "I don't think I am sinking low." He spoke softly, tilting his head to be closer to her eye level. She kept her head down, but her eyes looked up to him. In his close proximity, she noted that he was taller than Jon. He looked away for a second and took in a deep breath. "I don't hold onto any delusions. I know that you love Jon, he won your heart, and I'm not asking you to give me your love so easily." His expression read of a determination that she had not seen in him yet. "Jon is my brother, and he asked me to protect you."

She looked to the ground once more. _He does this, above all, as a favour. _She refused to believe the idea Robb could truly feel for her. _I'm his brother's lover, and I would have been his wife...I'm a useless Lady, unable to bare his sons. _Her ears and nose grew warm.

"I don't want you to think of this as some great favour." She raised an eyebrow at his comment, and could not help but to look at him properly. It was the second time that Robb Stark had surprised her that evening. She was intrigued, wondering how he could have known just what she was thinking. "It would be a lie to say that I was not pleased to marry you."

Her breaths became shallow as he confirmed her thoughts about his affections._ He does care for me...And he cares as little about my affliction as Jon did. _She fought against the idea, her guilt wrapping its painful hands around her neck. _Ask him again, he must not know what Jon had meant. Tell him again. _

"Robb," She began, her expression painfully serious, "I cannot have your children." She thought that she could make it through, but as the words left her lips, she began to cry.

"I don't care about that." He rushed to say, battling her shame, and tossing it aside. "If Jon could love you passed that, why can't I?" His point was valid, but fell short.

"Jon isn't heir to Winterfell." She fought against his kindness for reasons she could not remember any longer.

"No, he's not. I'm our father's heir, it's my duty to protect this family, and whether my mother likes it or not, Jon is part of it. And soon, I hope that you will be too."

She became touched by his words, but felt that she might have been influenced by her fragile condition. She felt vulnerable in front of him now, naked.

She knew a thing or two of what it meant to be the eldest child. It meant nothing at all, if one was not dutiful and put family and honour above all else. In this, they shared a common ground. She swallowed and dared to think of how she had already found two commonalities between herself and Robb. _Perhaps the gods are guiding me in this direction for a reason. _She began to fiddle with her ring as she always did when she was nervous. _If this were any different, if I had never met Jon, and I had stayed and danced with Robb on that first night, all would be well. _As her eyes continued to swell with tears, she became irritated. She hated to cry, least of all in the presence of another.

Her manners however, were never far behind. They tugged at her skirts and she knew that she should give him an answer of her own.

"I have a duty too I suppose." She said quickly as she could, blinking away her tears. "Since the day I was born, I knew that I would marry whoever my father told me to." She could hear the tiredness in her voice. She decided that she did not want to embrace the happy coincidences. Robb Stark might have been a better match on paper, but Jon had conquered her. _I cannot be swayed by these commonalities..._ She was flipping her opinions so fast, she felt dizzy.

He leaned in lower than before, his blue eye's deep with severity. "I don't want you to marry me because your father _told_ you to." He said, not unkindly, his eyebrows knit together uneasily.

Unable to back away, she was locked in by his gaze, wondering how in the world he could be so kind, so understanding. The contracts were signed, they were wed in all but name, and in a few days, he would be her lord. Yet, he treated her and spoke as though she had a choice in the matter. Giving her a voice that many had not have been interested in hearing. Not even Jon.

She was grateful for his understanding. "That's very gallant of you." She admitted.

"I'm not trying to be." He stated.

She struggled to look at Robb in another light. She wanted to see him as a person on his own. Separate from Jon entirely. She didn't need to be reminded that Robb was the first person she saw when she had arrived at Winterfell. His auburn hair and striking blue eyes were impossible to ignore. She had singled him out, once.

_Robb is the one here. He's the one consoling you. _She wanted to be Robb's finance, and forget Jon. But the thought alone, cut too deep.

_A boat can remain in near perfect condition, tied to a dock for it's whole life. But that's not what boats are for. _Her father told her when she was a child, when stakes were ever low, and dreams were wasted.

Her life, and the lives of those around her would move forward with or without her participation. She could learn to forget Jon, and in time, love Robb. Or, she could deny Robb's kindness, and fall to the waste side. Jon would be in the Night's Watch, and her family would eventually fall from grace.

She knew what she had to do.

She gathered her courage and swallowed away some of her tears, placing her hand on his chest with quaking fingers. His eyes followed her hand and snapped quickly back to her face. "You and I, it won't be easy." She said, her eyes fixated on the pattern on the leather. She imagined Jon in front her instead, and it almost made it easier. But every time the wind blew Robb scent towards her, the illusion was shattered and she promptly knew what she would soon agree to.

She took in a quivering breath, when she felt a gloved hand press onto hers, pushing it harder onto his chest. _Jon, I'm sorry._

She would let him go in time, but for now she was a tree with its roots already planted firm._ I need to make myself love Robb Stark. _A feat she knew would take a great deal of time and patience for the both of them.

"I want to make you happy Ev̱gení̱s. Give me a chance. I can protect you." Her lips tightened, recalling how Jon had once promised her something similar.

She was adamant to remember that Robb was a good man. _Jon wouldn't have let me go to anyone who was not worthy. _He wanted to marry her despite her infertility, despite the fact that she had already been with his brother, and despite the obvious disinterest she was showing him. This was rare, she knew, and few woman had this kind of chance.

With great difficulty, she initiated the first step towards a complicated courtship. "Do you still want to marry me Robb?" She looked at him hesitantly, and he stared back at her, close as a kiss.

"I do." He nodded. "I do with all my heart." His divine blue eyes spoke the truth.

She dug her nails into the leather of his doublet, and swallowed hard. "You will have to be more patient than you can imagine. I love Jon, and I fear that might never change."

"Perhaps with time, you might grow to love another." He said, a fragile hope in his voice. She could not bare to deny him.

"I'll marry you Robb." She nodded lightly, her face turning downwards in shame. She pushed her face into his chest and wept quietly, as he held her.

**Hi all, **

**Just wanted to start off by saying thank you to all those who have been reviewing and sending me messages. I really appreciate your words and time.**

**Again, I apologize if sometimes it seems like I am taking a long time to write and post chapters. I have to admit that to date, this was the most difficult chapter to write. I also know for a fact that it will get more difficult as the story progresses, as I know what is in store for the characters. **

**To give you an idea of how dedicated I am to making this story flow well, this chapter was rewritten approximately six times. Not changed, but completely rewritten. I have five other versions that never made it to the story because I felt that they were not realistically up to par. **

**I took into consideration how the characters would react, not only to the situation, but to one another. All this, I needed to do while ultimately moving the story forward. **

**I will be putting as much effort into the next chapter as I did with this one. **

**If you have any questions, please message me :)**

**I hope you enjoyed! Please message/review/favourite etc. **

**Cheers!**

**-Prosati **


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